


Max and Pierre

by kakkakerssi



Category: Formula 1 RPF
Genre: Chronic Pain, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Slow Burn, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-03
Updated: 2020-04-14
Packaged: 2021-03-12 10:23:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 28
Words: 55,065
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22098223
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kakkakerssi/pseuds/kakkakerssi
Summary: A story about Max and Pierre, based loosely on the 2019 season and then an imaginary 2020 season. Lots of angst, but some light moments too. Certainly no violence, Max in this fic is completely the opposite to the last multi-chaptered Max I wrote. Here, Max is a Good Man. Which is fortunate, because Pierre really needs his support.
Relationships: Daniel Ricciardo & Max Verstappen, Lando Norris/Carlos Sainz Jr, Pierre Gasly & Charles Leclerc, Pierre Gasly/Max Verstappen
Comments: 211
Kudos: 104





	1. “I hate seeing you suffer.”

“How bad is your pain?” Max asked gently, perching on the edge of the mattress next to Pierre. They were in Pierre’s hotel room in Hungary, resting after the 2019 GP. Max had been on the podium for the second race in a row and Pierre had finished back in 6th. It was his equal third-best result of the season but he knew that didn’t matter to Red Bull. Everyone was talking about how Pierre was going to be replaced by Alex over the summer break and although Christian had tried to reassure Pierre that it wasn’t going to happen, Pierre knew that was a lie.

Max reached out and delicately ran his fingers through Pierre’s hair, pulling away the moment Pierre flinched. Pierre’s headaches had been getting more frequent lately, especially after the races. He’d tried to do extra neck training to compensate but it wasn’t having much effect. “I’m sorry,” Max whispered, “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“It’s okay.” Pierre reached out, taking Max’s hand in his and squeezing his fingers. “It feels like it’s spreading all down my neck and my back, that’s all.”

“Is there anything I can do to help?” Max after, dipping his head and kissing Pierre’s knuckles. “I hate seeing you suffer.”

“I just need to rest,” Pierre replied, closing his eyes and fidgeting under the blankets. He opened his eyes again when his phone vibrated, feeling too exhausted to check the notification. “Who’s that?”

Max grabbed Pierre’s phone from the nightstand and tapped in the PIN - 3009, Max’s birthday - swiping open the notification. “Ugh, it’s Charles,” he said, the disgust obvious in his voice. “The dickhead wants to know if you want to meet up for a drink tonight before the summer break starts tomorrow.”

“Max,” Pierre warned. “He’s my best friend.”

“He’s also a cunt,” Max protested. “I don’t know why you like him so much.”

“Because he’s my best friend,” Pierre retorted. “I’ve known him forever and I would not be here today without him.” Charles had been the person to drag Pierre to a doctor after he admitted he was self-harming. Two years later when Pierre and Max had been dating for a while, Max kissed the scars on Pierre’s legs and told him he loved him no matter what.

“He’s still an entitled, stuck-up dickhead,” Max said. “Do you want me to text him back?”

“Tell him I’m not feeling well and I hope he has a nice time in Las Vegas. And put a sun emoji or something as well.”

Max tapped at the screen and then locked it, putting the phone back on the bedside table. “I told him to fuck off.”

“No you didn’t,” Pierre grinned, reaching for Max’s hand again. “You fly to LA on Tuesday, right? So we can spend tomorrow in Monaco?”

“We can spend tomorrow _ night _in Monaco,” Max replied. “Tomorrow morning I have to go to the factory for debrief.”

“Max, I’m sad that this was our last race as team-mates,” Pierre said quietly, closing his eyes because he didn’t want to see the disappointment on Max’s face.

Max sighed and climbed off the mattress and knelt down next to the bed so his head was level with Pierre’s. “Don’t talk like that,” he said, leaning in close to Pierre. “This isn’t our last race together.”

“You can’t seriously believe Christian,” Pierre said, opening his eyes. “Max, he’s going to replace me.”

Max didn’t reply, grinding his teeth instead. 

“You have to accept it’s going to happen,” Pierre said, wincing. He rolled onto his back, his face contorting as a spasm of pain shot up the back of his neck. He bit his lip to keep from crying out.

“We’re not talking about this,” Max said, pressing his hand delicately against Pierre’s chest, going as close to his head as he dared to. “You’re going to get some rest, okay? I’m meeting Daniel for a drink, and then I’ll come back and check on you. There’s a bottle of water on the bedside table with your phone. Do you need anything else?”

“No,” Pierre choked out, folding one arm over his face to keep the bright lamp out of his eyes. “Thank you.”

Max stood up and mashed at the control panel of buttons next to the bed. He turned off all the lights in the bedroom but turned on the light in the en suite. He took Pierre’s hand and gently guided his arm back down to his side. “It’s okay, it’s dark now. Get some sleep. If you need to piss, just follow the light.”

“I love you,” Pierre whispered, pulling Max down for a kiss. “Tell Daniel to look after Charles in Vegas.”

Max smiled against Pierre’s lips. “I’ll tell him to fucking him leave him there,” he teased. “See you later, sweet.” He kissed Pierre again and then left the hotel room. When he got back three hours later, Pierre was curled up on his side, snoring lightly. Max crawled into bed next to him and became the big spoon, his heart swelling when Pierre snuggled back against him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is going to be a really gentle, pull at your heart strings, type of fic. No fast-paced 'omg call the police' action. Just Max and Pierre, trying their best, having to overcome things.


	2. “Stop trying to make me feel better.”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pierre gets replaced at Red Bull. :-(

“Are you still awake?” Pierre said into his phone, knowing that the answer was affirmative given that Max had actually answered the call. “It’s late there.” Pierre had checked the time before making the call - it was 9am in Monaco but midnight in Los Angeles. Pierre had just gotten off the phone with Dr. Marko.

“I’m here. What’s wrong?”

Pierre frowned, biting his lip as he curled up in a smaller ball on the sofa. He wanted to sound calm and collected but Max always had a way of knowing when Pierre was upset. “Nothing, I just wanted to hear your voice before you went to bed.”

“Talk to me, Pierrot.” Max’s voice was soft. “Tell me what’s happened.”

“He always likes to call first thing in the morning, doesn’t he?” Pierre laughed. “He really knows how to ruin a person’s day. I should have ignored his call or told him I was in the gym or something.” Pierre sighed and rubbed his eyes, feeling too exhausted to cry. “I was going to go away for a few days, you know? Go and see my parents, maybe catch up with my brothers, but now I have to go to fucking Faenza for a seat fit instead. I’m so angry.”

“Is it confirmed they’re swapping you and Alex?”

“They’ve already put out the press release,” Pierre replied. “They’ve had it all planned. I feel like the last person to find out about this, and it’s my fucking career.”

“Do you want me to come home?”

“No.” Pierre shook his head and closed his eyes, dragging his fingers through his hair. “I just need to vent. I don’t exactly have a long list of people I can cry about this with.” He sighed angrily, lashing out and kicking the arm of the sofa. 

“Can you still make it to your parents?”

“Yeah, but only for a couple of days,” Pierre explained. “There’s too much work to do in Italy. It’s stupid; I’m not even allowed to drive the car until Belgium first practice. What if I’m shit slow in that car too?”

“You’re not slow in  _ any  _ car,” Max protested. “Did Marko give you a reason for the swap?”

“Just some bullshit about how we -  _ they  _ \- need to make sure to beat Ferrari in the constructors championship. I guess Alex is the person to do that, not me.” Pierre sighed again. “I’m sorry I’m being a little bitch about it. I knew this was coming, I don’t know why I’m shocked by it. I hate everything.”

“I hope I’m not included in that list.”

“I hate everything except you,” Pierre said, rolling his eyes, annoyed at Max for trying to cheer him up when all he wanted to do was drown in self pity. “Will you tell me about your day? Did you have fun?”

“I saw Daniel!” Max replied brightly. “I was walking along, I heard a car horn, and I saw Daniel waving at me. I didn’t even know he was out here. The world is really small sometimes.”

“I wish you were here,” Pierre whispered.

“I wish I was there too,” Max replied. “I’ll call you as soon as I wake up, okay? You can tell me what you did today. I don’t want to hear that you spent all day inside eating ice cream.”

“You won’t,” Pierre said, sitting forward on the sofa. “We don’t have any ice cream in the apartment. We don’t really have any food at all; I need to go shopping. Maybe I’ll go for a run, and then eat my bodyweight in tiramisu, and then book my flight to Faenza.”

“That sounds like a good plan,” Max said. “Please send me a video of you eating 65 kilos of tiramisu.”

“Fuck off,” Pierre laughed. “Stop trying to make me feel better.”

“But I’m your boyfriend, it’s my job!”

“Well I hate it,” Pierre whined. “I just want to sit here and hate myself and you’re making it really difficult to do that. Please go to sleep.”

“No,” Max retorted. “I’m not going to sleep until you promise to take care of yourself. This isn’t the end of your career, okay? You’re going to drive for Toro Rosso and you’re going to do amazing and you’re going to prove to Marko that you’re much better than Alex will ever be. Besides, you love it in Italy and you hate Milton Keynes.”

“Thank you for believing in me,” Pierre said, finally starting to relax. “I’m going to go for a shower. That might help me stop being a little bitch. Sweet dreams, Max.”

“Promise me-”

Pierre cut Max off before he could finish his sentence and he tossed his phone onto the coffee table, closing his eyes and dragging his hands through his hair again. He told himself he was allowed the time in the shower to feel like shit, but after that he put his game face back on. He had work to do. 


	3. “Fuck you, Helmut Marko.”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pierre gets his first podium in Brazil.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did have a chapter written about the Belgium weekend but it felt a little too sensitive to post in full, so I won't share that. It's not really appropriate. It can be summarised as follows:
> 
> "I'm spending the night with Charles tonight, and I swear to God, if you say anything about him being a piece of shit-"
> 
> "I'm not going to say anything. His friend just died. You should be together. I'll see you tomorrow."
> 
> Instead here's a chapter about Brazil. It's short and sweet, much like Pierre.

Max smiled widely in his helmet as he threw his arms around Pierre, laughing when he could feel Pierre practically still vibrating from the adrenaline coursing through his veins. They were in parc fermé at the Brazilian GP and Pierre had finished second; his first podium in Formula 1.

Pierre squeezed Max tightly, resisting the urge to tackle him to the ground. He grinned inside his helmet, pulling away only enough to make eye contact with Max. “Fuck you, Helmut Marko!” he smirked, feeling like his performance on track should shut down all of his haters.

Max smiled more and bonked the top of Pierre’s helmet before leaving him to celebrate with his team. As they stood on the podium a few minutes later, Max made a mental note to find a photo of the two of them with their trophies covered in champagne and have it framed for their apartment. He also had a smirk over the fact that he had won the race whereas Charles had crashed out of it by refusing to yield to his team-mate. Charles obviously still needed to learn a lot, whereas Max was maturing and that’s why he had the winner’s trophy and Charles had nothing.

“This is the best day of my life,” Pierre whispered when they were in bed later that night. Pierre was lying on his back with Max curled around him, his head resting on Pierre’s chest, soothed by the sound of his heartbeat.

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah,” Pierre replied. “After the year I’ve had, with the team swap, and with Anthoine, and with all the times I doubted myself and thought I couldn’t do it, to then today be on the podium, fuck, it feels really good, Max.”

“You deserve it,” Max said, turning his head and kissing Pierre’s chest. “I want to see you on the podium every weekend. Just not in front of me, that’s all.”

“Oh, I’m coming for you,” Pierre laughed, tracing his fingers through Max’s hair. “You’d better watch out now. One podium for me and I’m a changed man.”

“I’m not even scared,” Max teased.

“Just you wait,” Pierre retorted. “I’ll pay Lewis to keep taking out Alex.”

“And I’ll pay Seb to keep taking out Charles.”

Pierre hated himself for laughing but he couldn’t help it. Charles was his best friend, but Max did have a point. “Their crash was so stupid. You shouldn’t be wheel to wheel like that with your team-mate.”

“But if you’re going to crash him out, you should do it properly,” Max pointed out. “Like me and Daniel in Baku. Or me and Seb in Silverstone. I don’t know why people like smashing into my rear end.”

“Oh, you don’t?” Pierre asked coyly, sliding his hand down Max’s spine, smirking when Max shivered. “Why would anyone want to go near your rear?”

Max rolled his eyes and crawled on top of Pierre. “Obviously,  _ you  _ are biased,” he said, dipping his head and kissing Pierre, moaning when he felt Pierre’s hands slide inside his shorts.

“So biased,” Pierre whispered between kisses, shoving Max’s shorts down to his ankles. “Do I get a reward for being on the podium today?”

“I don’t know,” Max hissed, pushing his hips back into Pierre’s touch. “Do I get a reward for  _ winning _ ?”


	4. "Don't go, don't go, please don't go."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pierre realises he needs help.

Max groaned and climbed off of Pierre, kneeling on the bed next to him. “What is wrong with you?” he asked, frustrated because Pierre had just said no to sex again. He’d become increasingly distant over the winter break, often sleeping in late and going to bed early (although sometimes Max would wake up in the middle of the night and Pierre wouldn’t be there)

“I told you, I don’t feel good,” Pierre snapped, sitting up as well. He threw his legs over the side of the bed and stood up. “My head hurts and I’m really tired.”

“You’re  _ always  _ tired,” Max protested, following Pierre out into the living room. They were both in their underwear and Pierre shivered at the open balcony door. “Is it me? Am I doing something you don’t like?”

“No, you’re great,” Pierre replied, turning back to face Max. “You’re doing everything right.”

“So why haven’t we had sex since we were in Brazil?!” Max hissed. “Pierre, it’s fucking  _ January _ .”

“I already told you, I have a headache,” Pierre sighed.

“You really expect me to believe you’ve had a headache that’s lasted for two months?” Max replied, incredulous. “If that were true, you’d have a fucking brain tumour or something. Headaches don’t last for two months.”

“Maybe I do have a brain tumour then!” Pierre hissed. “Maybe I’ll just drop dead one day. Would you believe me then that I’m in pain?”

“You’re being ridiculous, Pierre, come on.”

“Me?” Pierre shouted, shoving Max in the chest. Max staggered backwards and bumped into the sofa and Pierre closed the gap, squaring up to him. “You’re the one who’s obsessed with sex, Max.”

“I’m not  _ obsessed _ ,” Max protested, grabbing Pierre’s wrists. “You’re my boyfriend. It’s nice to touch you occasionally.”

“Get off me,” Pierre said, struggling against Max, grunting when Max didn’t immediately let him go. “You’re hurting me.”

“I’m not letting you go until you tell me the truth,” Max said, holding Pierre’s wrists tighter and pulling him close.

“Max, please,” Pierre begged, his wrists feeling like they were on fire. “You’re scaring me.”

“Just tell me what’s going on!”

Pierre pulled hard against Max and broke free of his grip, stumbling backwards. “Don’t you  _ ever  _ grab me like that again!” he shouted, storming into the bedroom to pull on some clothes. He dragged a hoodie over his head and wriggled into some skinny jeans (which were now baggy from the weight he’d lost over Christmas.)

“Pierre, please,” Max begged, standing in the doorway to block Pierre’s exit. “I just want to know what’s going on with you. Is it your anxiety?”

Pierre rolled his eyes and pulled his trainers onto his feet. “Oh, so I must be crazy now, is that it?”

“I don’t know!” Max shouted. He pushed Pierre against the doorframe as Pierre tried to muscle his way past him and Pierre reached up, slapping Max hard across the cheek. Max recoiled, covering his face. 

“Leave me the fuck alone,” Pierre hissed, heading for the front door. “I’m going to get some fresh air.”

“When are you coming back?” Max asked, following Pierre through the hallway, still pressing his hand over his stinging cheek.

“I don’t know,” Pierre said as he left the apartment, slamming the door behind him. He took the stairs down to the ground floor rather than the lift, too angry to stand around waiting for technology to get him outside. The warm afternoon sun burned his face and he pulled up his hood, burying his hands in his pockets as he walked through the narrow streets of Monaco, heading for the coastal path. 

Pierre found an outcrop of rocks and sat down, tucking his knees to his chest as his panic attack hit. His pulse raced and he dragged his hands through his hair as he struggled to keep his breathing under control, fighting the urge to slide off the rocks into the sea. When none of his normal grounding techniques worked, he realised he wasn’t having a panic attack, he was just crying. It was like a cork had been pulled out of him and everything he’d been bottling up over the past year came rushing out.

Pierre pressed his palms against his eyes and sobbed until his teeth hurt, his breathing ragged as hot tears spilled down his cheeks. He wiped his eyes with the sleeves of his hoodie and stared out over the sea, mad at himself for arguing with Max. Max was only trying to be nice and Pierre had thrown it all back in his face. He had to get back to the apartment before Max packed his bags and left. They’d talked in the past about Jos’s history of violence; Max knew it was wrong, he knew never to hit someone, and he said he’d immediately leave any partner who was violent to him.

Pierre jumped up from the rocks and ran back to the apartment, taking the stairs two at a time. He was breathless by the time he got to their front door, and he didn’t have his phone or his keys on him. He banged on the door and kept banging on it until Max opened it.

“Don’t go,” Pierre said, throwing himself at Max. He wrapped his arms tightly around Max’s shoulders and held him close. “Don’t go, don’t go, please don’t go,” he begged. “I’m so sorry, Max, I’m so stupid, please don’t leave.”

Max sighed and kicked the front door shut, nudging Pierre back against it. He pressed his forehead against Pierre’s, closing his eyes. He reached his hands up, holding Pierre’s head still, pushing his fingers up through the back of Pierre’s hair.

“Don’t leave,” Pierre whispered, his hands on Max’s chest. “Please, Max, I’m so stupid, I need help, I’ll get help, I promise, just don’t leave. Don’t throw away three years over me being stupid.”

“Ssh,” Max replied, pressing his lips against Pierre’s in a gentle kiss. “Stop talking.”

“Don’t leave,” Pierre mumbled between kisses. Fresh tears stung his eyes and he cried more when Max wiped them away with his thumbs. He felt like he and Max were occupying the tiniest space on the planet but Max still felt too far away. “Don’t leave.”

Max pulled away only enough to see Pierre clearly and he kept his hands where they were, cupping Pierre’s face. “I need you to be honest with me,” he said quietly. “No more lies. No more pretending you have a headache when you don’t want to have sex. No more pretending you’re fine when you’re not. You need to tell me the truth.”

“I  _ do  _ have a headache,” Pierre whimpered. “Everything hurts all the time, Max. I can’t remember the last day I wasn’t hurting.”

“If that’s true, then you need to see a Doctor,” Max replied gently. “And soon.”

Pierre nodded in Max’s hands, still gripping Max’s t-shirt, afraid that Max would leave if he let go. “I’ll call Pyry today.”

“Tell me the truth about your anxiety,” Max urged. “How bad is it really?”

“It’s bad,” Pierre whispered. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you it was getting worse again. I thought I could handle it.”

“This isn’t handling it,” Max said. “You running out on me isn’t handling it.”

“I know,” Pierre replied quickly. “And I’m sorry I hit you. There’s no excuse for that. That’s not okay.”

Max took a slow breath before answering. “You need to get help,” he said calmly. “You need to work out what’s going on in that head of yours and you need to deal with it. Because it’s not just affecting you now, Pierre, it’s affecting me too, and I can’t carry on like this.”

“I know,” Pierre said sympathetically. “I’m so sorry.”

“I feel like shit every time you say no to sex,” Max admitted, pulling away from Pierre to give them both some space. “Sometimes I ask myself why I bother even still trying. That’s not a healthy relationship. I don’t want to leave you. I want to repair the cracks in our relationship, but I need you to get on top of your mental health.”

Pierre nodded, wiping his eyes on the sleeve of his hoodie. “I’ll call Pyry right now,” he said, gently touching Max’s arm as he brushed past him. His phone was on charge in the bedroom and he unplugged it, stepping out onto the balcony to make the phone call. It lasted almost an hour as he ranted to Pyry about his symptoms and talked about what might be causing them and what Pierre could do to try and help himself until they could get him to a Doctor. Maybe it was just anxiety but maybe there were other causes like vitamin deficiencies or lack of hydration.

By the time the phone call ended, Pierre felt absolutely exhausted. His brain felt like cotton wool, his muscles ached, and he wanted to sleep. He stood up from the bean bag on the balcony and took several shaky steps towards the door, pulling it open and stepping back inside the lounge.

Max was curled up on the sofa playing on his phone, which he instantly discarded when he saw Pierre. He held Pierre’s hand and helped him down onto the sofa. “I got you painkillers and water,” he said, gesturing at the coffee table. “And I’ve ordered take-away for dinner. They’re bringing pasta carbonara and tiramisu.” Pierre’s favourite.

Pierre pressed two tablets out of the packaging and downed them with half the glass of water before crawling across the sofa and cuddling up against Max. “I love you more than anything,” he whispered, closing his eyes.

“I love you too,” Max replied, brushing his fingers through Pierre’s hair and kissing the top of his head. “How did it go with Pyry?”

“He’s booking me on a flight to Austria tomorrow,” Pierre replied, settling his head against Max’s chest. “We’re going to do a full service and find out what’s wrong with me. My head, my body, everything.”

“That’s good,” Max said, moving to gently massage the base of Pierre’s skull. “I’m worried about you.”

“I’m worried about me too,” Pierre agreed. “But I want to get better. I’ll try harder with the sex stuff. I don’t want to make you feel like shit.”

Max scoffed and closed his eyes, cuddling closer to Pierre. “If we’re being honest,” he said quietly, “sometimes I don’t think I’m attractive, and it doesn’t help when you don’t want to have sex with me.”

“But you’re the most attractive person I know,” Pierre replied, lifting his head.

“I know,” Max replied, stilling his hand and meeting Pierre’s gaze. “But you know as well as anyone, there’s a difference between reality and what you perceive is reality.”

Pierre sighed and put his head back down again, closing his eyes. “I’ll try harder. Please believe me.”

“I believe you.”


	5. "So it's all in your head?"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charles is worried about Pierre and goes looking for him, and Pierre updates Max on his situation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've had a lot of time to write today. Here's another chapter. I think the next one will be more positive (it's Pierre's birthday, yay!) but then it'll all hit the fan. :-(

“Alright, alright, jesus, I’m coming,” Max called out, pulling on his dressing gown and making his way to the front door of his apartment. “Stop knocking.” He pulled open the front door and found Charles on the other side, peering at him. Charles’s eyes narrowed when he was confronted with Max instead of Pierre.

“Where’s Pierre?” Charles asked, a suspicious tone to his voice.

“Not here,” Max replied, shrugging. He’d dropped Pierre off at the airport almost a week ago and had barely spoken to him since.

“Where has he gone?” Charles pressed. “I haven’t heard from him in days. He’s not answering my calls or my messages, but I know he’s seen them. What’s going on with him?”

“He’s gone away for a few days, that’s all,” Max replied defensively. He didn’t want to betray Pierre’s privacy. He knew Charles was his best friend, but if Pierre hadn’t told Charles where he was, then Max certainly wasn’t about to.

“Where?”

“That’s not really any of your business,” Max replied, tightening his grip on the door handle, ready to close it in Charles’s face if he asked any more questions.

“I’m worried about him, that’s all,” Charles said. “It’s out of character for him to ignore me like this. If you won’t tell me where he is, fine, but will you at least tell me if he’s safe?”

“He’s safe,” Max said, nodding. “Next time I hear from him, I’ll tell him you’re looking for him. I’ll ask him to call you.”

“Thank you,” Charles said politely. “I hope he comes back soon.”

“Me too,” Charles replied. “Good bye, Charles.” He closed the door and wandered back into the bedroom, stripping off his dressing gown and crawling under the covers. Normally Max coped okay when Pierre was away, but these past few days Max had been feeling lost. 

It was only after another day of a frustrated cycle ride and moping around the house that Max got a call from Pierre. Max let it ring a few times, not wanting to seem desperate, but then he quickly answered the call, holding his phone to his ear. “Pierre? Are you okay?”

“I think so,” Pierre replied, trying to sound confident. “I got a load of test results back today. We made a plan.”

“Tell me.” Max sat up straighter on the sofa, concentrating. He wanted to understand everything that was happening.

“We’ve upped the dosage of the anti-depressants,” Pierre explained, “and I’ve got to take Vitamin D supplements. Apparently my levels were a bit low. The good news is, I don’t have a brain tumour, my heart is fine, there’s no other weird diseases going on.”

“So it’s all in your head?” Max asked, flinching. “Sorry, I didn’t mean it like that. I know what you’re feeling is real.”

“It’s okay, I know what you meant,” Pierre said softly. “It’s all tied into my mental health. The headaches, the constantly feeling like shit, it’s all tied together. That’s what the Doctors think, at least. So we’re increasing the medication and I’ve talked to a counsellor about everything that’s been going on. She’s been a big help so I’m going to Skype her when I leave here, and I’ve been given some exercises too to help sort out the mess in my head. They say the best way to tackle this thing is a combination of medication and talking therapy, which I was kind of already doing, but we’re going to do it  _ more _ .”

Max nodded, processing everything Pierre was telling him. “What about our argument?” he asked tentatively. “Is that linked to all this as well?”

“Yes,” Pierre replied. “We were both angry that day. I’ve done a lot of reflecting and I understand how you would feel bad for me saying no to sex. I shouldn’t have lashed out, and I shouldn’t have walked out either. I should have stayed and talked it out with you. It’s not fair of me to take my feelings out on you. You’re my boyfriend, we’re a team, we have to collaborate.”

Max nodded again, rubbing the tiredness out of his eyes. “When are you coming home?”

“I hope by the weekend, if you still want me to come back?”

“Of course I want you to come back,” Max said, biting his lip. “I miss you so much. It’s like there’s a big hole in the apartment without you in it. You need to come home, Pierre.”

“I will, as soon as I can, I promise,” Pierre said sincerely. “I’m going to work really hard at this thing, Max. I’m really scared for the future, but I’m going to try.”

“Why are you scared?” Max asked tentatively.

“Because I could die,” Pierre replied, his voice wavering. “Suicide, you know? This depression, it could kill me, and I really don’t want that. I want to live. I want to get better.”

“Don’t talk like that, sweet,” Max said, fidgeting on the sofa. “You’re not going to die.”

“I’ll try not to, I promise,” Pierre replied. “If I ever think that I want to, I’ll tell you immediately. I want to get better. I have to. Testing starts in three weeks and then we’re practically straight out to Australia.”

“Fuck,” Max groaned, rubbing his hand over the top of his head. Three weeks wasn’t a long time at all in the grand scheme of things. “What’s the plan to handle this while you’re travelling?”

“Regular check-ins,” Pierre replied. “At least weekly, but more frequent if necessary. Careful monitoring. And it’s all being done discreetly so fucking Dr Marko doesn’t think I’m crazy or incapable of handling the pressure. I handled last year, right? I got him a fucking trophy. I can handle this year.”

“What can I do to help?” Max asked. “Where do I fit into all this?”

“You’re perfect just the way you are,” Pierre replied. “Maybe you’ll humour me if I try weird things. They recommended me an app that talks to you while you meditate.”

“Just tell me when you’re coming home and I’ll get more tiramisu,” Max smirked. “You do sound a bit better than when you left.”

“What, because I’m not crying?” Pierre laughed. “I’m a fucking mess, I know I am, but I’m also a little bit optimistic. If I keep taking the medication, keep doing everything they say, maybe I’ll get better. I’ve had this for years, though, so I don’t know if I’ll ever be  _ cured _ , but if I can get to normal levels of misery and worrying, I’ll call that a success. I should go. It’s getting late and I’m struggling to keep my eyes open.”

“Okay. Call me tomorrow?”

“Of course.”

“One more thing,” Max said, sitting back on the sofa. “Charles turned up here this morning, looking for you. He said you haven’t returned his calls or messages. He’s worried about you.”

“What did you tell him?”

“That you’re not here,” Max replied. “I figured if you didn’t tell him you were in Austria, it was because you didn’t want him to know. He asked if you are safe, I told him you are.”

“I’ll text him.”

“Okay. I love you, Pierre. Get some rest, and I’ll speak to you tomorrow.” Max smiled as Pierre wished him a good night as well and he ended the call, sinking back into the sofa and dragging his hands over his face. He already felt better from having heard Pierre’s voice, but he knew things were a long way from being okay. He grabbed his phone again and opened a new google search tab.  _ How to help your boyfriend who has depression.  _


	6. "What did I do to deserve you?"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The evening of Pierre's birthday.

“Have you had a nice day?” Max asked, crawling under the bed sheets next to Pierre. He laid down on his side facing Pierre and smiled at him. “Was it an okay birthday?”

“It was perfect,” Pierre replied, reaching out and cupping Max’s jaw. “A quiet day was exactly what I wanted. I love all the big, loud parties with you, but I love the quiet days just as much. Lunch by the sea was great, I don’t know how you found that place, and then the walk back was beautiful. Really, Max, I had the best day. Did  _ you  _ have fun?”

Max nodded, turning his head into Pierre’s touch and kissing his wrist. It had been the first day in weeks he hadn’t spent the whole time worrying about Pierre’s health. He knew he was the loud, boisterous one in the relationship and Pierre was the quieter, more sensitive one but today, Max had done most of the listening while Pierre rambled excitedly about the future.

“Are you tired?” Pierre asked, dipping his head and kissing Max’s chest. When Max didn’t say ‘no’, Pierre kissed his way down Max’s stomach, shoving the duvet down and moving to kneel in the space between Max’s legs.

“I’m not tired,” Max replied, his breath hitching as Pierre rubbed his hands over his shorts. Max pressed his feet into the mattress and lifted his hips so Pierre could pull his shorts down and then he wrapped his legs around Pierre’s waist. “What are you doing?”

“Do you want this?” Pierre asked, pressing his hands against Max’s hips and lowering his head slightly, peering up at Max.

Max nodded quickly. “I do. Do  _ you _ ? It’s been so long, I don’t want you to feel pressured.”

“I don’t feel any pressure,” Pierre replied, smiling. “I love you and I want to make you feel good, that’s all. So, can I?”

Max nodded again, relaxing back into the mattress. He lifted his head, carefully watching Pierre’s face and he gently held the back of Pierre’s head, wanting him closer but ready to let go at the slightest hint of Pierre pulling back. It was only when Pierre smiled around his cock and locked eyes with him that Max believed he was okay.

Max threw his head back against the pillow and curled his toes, fisting the bed sheet as he tried to hold on as long as possible. His orgasm ripped through him and he was still trembling by the time Pierre had cleaned up and returned to the bed for a cuddle.

Max rolled onto his side and cuddled close to Pierre, nuzzling his face and kissing his neck. “I love you,” he whispered. As he pressed himself closer, he realised how hard (and how naked) Pierre was. Max pulled away so he could see Pierre’s face properly and he ran his hand down over Pierre’s hip. “Tell me what you want.”

“Yes,” Pierre replied, not elaborating further.

Max sat up against the pillows and pulled Pierre down on top of him, wrapping one hand around the back of his neck to pull him close for a kiss and wrapping his other hand around Pierre’s erection.

Pierre pressed his hands against Max’s shoulders to keep himself upright but soon collapsed against Max, clawing at his shoulders, breathing heavy against Max’s ear.

“Turn around,” Max said, letting go and helping guide Pierre to sit on his lap with his back against Max’s chest. Max wrapped his legs around Pierre’s, holding him still as he nipped at Pierre’s ear and tickled his hands over Pierre’s stomach as he headed south again.

Pierre arched away from Max as his orgasm shook through him and then he slumped back against Max. He pulled Max’s arms around him and held him tight, resting his head back against Max’s shoulder.

“We’re making such a mess,” Max grinned, glancing down at Pierre’s stomach, feeling his arms sticky.

“I don’t care,” Pierre replied. “We’ll shower.”

“Happy Birthday,” Max said softly, nuzzling Pierre’s cheek. “I love you. Was that good?”

Pierre nodded, whimpering as an aftershock from his orgasm spread through him. He sighed contentedly and smiled as Max kissed his neck.

“Let’s not wait three months until next time,” Max suggested, resting his head against Pierre’s. “This was too much fun.”

“Come on, let’s shower,” Pierre said, trying his best not to touch anything as he climbed off the bed. If he was careful, they wouldn’t have to change the sheets. He hurried through to the bathroom and climbed into the shower, glad they had an apartment with instant hot water. He stood under the stream and scrubbed himself clean, smiling when Max climbed in next to him.

Max shampooed Pierre’s hair and massaged his head, smiling when Pierre’s neck went limp and his forehead fell against Max’s chest. Max knew he couldn’t (and nor should he try to) fix everything that was going on inside Pierre’s head but if he could give him two minutes relief from his thoughts with a head massage, he was happy to try.

Pierre pressed his hands against Max’s hips to keep himself upright and pulled away when he felt Max rinse his hands under the shower. Pierre took a small step backwards and looked up at Max. “What did I do to deserve you?”

Max shrugged, lifting Pierre’s jaw and guiding him back under the stream of water, helping him rinse his hair and making sure not to get any shampoo in his eyes. “I don’t know,” he replied, “but you’re stuck with me now, so I don’t think it really matters.”


	7. "Tell me what you need."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A few months go past and Pierre's mood picks up, whereas his physical pain gets worse, coming to a head at the Dutch GP...

As the weeks went past, Pierre’s mood levelled out. He felt better able to cope with everyday life, and though there were times he still didn’t feel like he wanted sex, sometimes he gave in and said yes and then afterwards couldn’t remember why he’d been hesitant in the first place. Testing went well; he didn’t crash the Alpha Tauri like he’d crashed the Red Bull in 2019, and he’d only said Toro Rosso once in an interview.

The constant tiredness he felt got worse and Pierre snuck naps into his day whenever he was able to. He and Max joked that he was turning into a puppy but they didn’t worry too much because Pierre’s mood was lifting. He wasn’t as irritable, he didn’t constantly check his phone, paranoid that he’d missed a call from Dr Marko, and he’d started to laugh at things again.

The pain got worse too; Pierre was often stiff first thing in the morning and after the race in Vietnam, he’d needed Daniil’s help to get out of the car. He’d arranged to go back to Austria for more tests between the Dutch and Spanish races because it was the first time there was a real gap and a few spare days. Until then, Pyry tried his best to soothe Pierre with the strongest painkillers he could take without being drowsy, and frequent massage.

The race in China was rough but it was cold there and Pierre didn’t suffer too much. After the race he had a long massage and an early night and almost felt refreshed on the flight home, most of which he slept through.

When they went to the Netherlands, there was a heat wave and Pierre barely saw Max all week due to all his media commitments. Everyone wanted a piece of Max and Pierre’s first chance to get time to speak to him was on the drivers’ parade truck. Max had qualified on pole, much to the excitement of all the fans, and Pierre was starting 11th. He’d missed out on Q3 by less than a tenth of a second to Daniil.

“You look like shit,” Max said, leaning in close to Pierre so nobody else would hear their conversation. “Did you sleep last night?”

“A bit,” Pierre replied, gripping onto the railing around the truck to keep himself upright. “Max, I don’t want you to worry, but…” he trailed off, not sure how to finish his sentence. He frowned, pushing his sunglasses back up his nose. “You said I have to be honest, even if it’s bad.”

“And I meant it,” Max replied, putting his hand on Pierre’s shoulder, squeezing it lovingly but pulling away when Pierre winced. “Tell me.”

“Today is the worst it’s ever been,” Pierre replied, chewing his lip. He ached like he had the flu and his muscles burned like he’d just finished a workout, but all he’d done so far today was rest, eat, and some light warmup. 

Max looked Pierre up and down and saw how white his knuckles were from holding onto the railing. “Can you even stand by yourself?”

“Yes,” Pierre replied, letting go of the railing. He held his hands up in a surrender pose, showing Max he could support his own weight, and then he put his hands back on the railing. “And I’ve told Pyry. It’s just one more week before I can get back to Austria to see the Doctors. I wish there was time sooner, but it’s a back-to-back and there’s no time for anything.”

“What can I do to help?” Max asked, putting his hand on top of Pierre’s, hoping they still had more time before a TV presenter cornered them for an interview. “Tell me what you need.”

“I just need you to  _ know _ ,” Pierre replied quietly. “This is me, being a hundred percent honest with you. I’m struggling today. I’m fighting hard, but I don’t know if it’s enough.”

“I hear you,” Max said. “Thank you for telling me the truth. I’ll trust Pyry to take care of you and I’ll find time to come and see you after the race. It sounds like you’ll need a cuddle or something. I’ll come to you as soon as I can. And if Charles fucking crashes into me, I’ll be in your room waiting for you, okay?”

Pierre rolled his eyes and rest his head on Max’s shoulder for a moment. “Thank you. I love you.”

Max kissed the top of Pierre’s head and then took a big step away from him, manoeuvring himself between Daniel and Sebastian as he heard a loud “and here’s our pole sitter, Max Verstappen!”

\---

Pierre’s reaction to the start lights going out was slow and he lost two positions on the grid. He clawed one of them back going into turn one and gritted his teeth. His team had added as much padding as they could do his head rest but the g forces pulling on his neck still made his vision go blurry. He briefly considered telling the team he was losing power and needed to retire the car but he knew they’d be able to tell from the telemetry that everything was fine.

Max dropped into second place behind Charles in the run down to turn one and spent most of the race behind him. He felt bad when he lapped Pierre but didn’t dwell on it for too long because he was completely focussed on catching Charles and overtaking him. Charles’s tyres were falling off the cliff and Max was reeling him in. If Charles pitted, he’d definitely end up behind Max. If Charles stayed out,  _ maybe  _ he could still win. 

Max got within DRS range of Charles and out-braked him at the end of the straight, shouting into his radio as he pulled away from Charles, already having a lead of nearly a second within three corners. With only five laps left until the end of the race, it was looking likely that Max would win.

“Safety Car! Stay out.”

Max groaned as his engineer’s voice echoed through his helmet and his steering wheel lit up in yellow. Driving at safety car speed always felt so slow compared to a full racing speed and Max followed his engineer’s instructions to put the car in the right settings to keep heat into the tyres.

“Red Flag! Box this lap. Pit confirm, Max.”

Max pressed the pit confirmation button and tried to find a big TV screen as he drove around the track. Races were only really suspended for two reasons - wet weather, and crashes that involved either too much damage to a driver or too much damage to the track to be fixed quickly behind the Safety Car.

“Why is it red flagged?” Max demanded as he drove round the track at an even more reduced speed. There was no wet weather - quite the opposite, a record hot day in the Netherlands for May. 

“Gasly’s stopped at Turn 3.”

“Fuck!” Max shouted. “Is he okay?!”

“We don’t know yet, Max. Stand by. Box this lap.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m coming in,” Max said, following the race suspension procedure and coming into the pit lane. He drove past his team garage and he drove past the Alpha Tauri garage, heading straight to pit exit and stopping his car just before the line. He followed his engineer’s instructions for turning the car off and he sat still while he waited for his mechanics to come to him to get the car ready for the restart.

At the Alpha Tauri pit box, Pierre’s engineer was talking to him on the radio. Pierre hadn’t said anything coherent but his engineer could hear his ragged breathing over the open radio and could tell he was still conscious. “The Doctors are coming, Pierre,” he said, trying to sound reassuring. “Just stay in the car, they’ll get you out. Stay still for me, okay?” He didn’t know if Pierre had broken any bones and didn’t want him hurting himself by trying to climb out of the car.

“Okay, Max, you can get out of the car.” Max frowned when he heard his engineer’s voice back in his helmet. “The race won’t be restarted. Get out of the car, and come back to parc fermé. You finished second.”

“Second?!” Max spat. “What the fuck? I’m fucking  _ first _ . Charles is behind me. You saw me overtake him. I crossed the finish line too after I did it. I won.”

“I’m just telling you what’s on the timing screens, Max, do you want me to quote the sporting regulations?”

“No, I want you to tell me about Pierre,” Max replied, unbuckling his seat belts. “Is he okay?”

“He’s still in the car. He’s conscious. That’s all I know so far. I’ll try to find out more for you. You need to go to parc fermé.”

“Sure, whatever,” Max said, pulling off his steering wheel and breaking the radio connection to his engineer. His mechanics helped him with his headrest and he climbed out of the car, putting his steering wheel back and marching down the pit lane towards the parc fermé area. He stopped half way when he felt someone grab his wrist from behind and he whirled around to find Charles grabbing him.

Max pulled his hand free and pushed up his visor so he could see Charles better. Charles had already taken his helmet off and was carrying it along with his balaclava and gloves. “What do you want?” Max snapped.

“It’s Pierre who crashed,” Charles said, not sure if Max knew what had happened or not. “Do you know how he is?”

Max unbuckled his helmet and pulled it off over his head, aware of the growing crowd of photographers surrounding them. Photos of Pierre’s two closest friends in the pit lane would make for a great news story if he died. Max pulled his balaclava off and stuffed it in his helmet. “All I know is that he’s conscious. We’ve got to get out of the pit lane.”

Charles and Max walked together down the pit lane, grateful to get into the staircase up to the podium room and away from all the media. They sat down in the arm chairs and watched the big TV as Lewis came and sat down next to them, reaching for the Third Place bottle of water.

News that Pierre was conscious had reached FOM and they showed a replay of the crash. Pierre had put one wheel on the grass on the exit of a corner and it had snapped the car round, firing him off the track and into the barrier. The car bounced off the tyre barrier and slid backwards, coming to a stop just before the edge of the track. The TV showed the crash again from several different angles, including Pierre’s on board camera.

Lewis sighed and rubbed his chin. He’d seen people walk away from crashes a lot worse than that. The car even still had three of its wheels attached. There was no debris on the track, no damage to the barrier itself, no obvious reason to suspend the race and not restart it.

“I won?” Charles said, looking at the timing screen. “Why?”

“It’s the stupid fucking rules,” Max said coldly. “When there’s a red flag, the result goes back to before the lap when the red flag was shown. You were leading then. Therefore, you won the stupid race.”

“I’m sorry,” Charles said, genuinely apologetic. “It doesn’t really matter who won now,” he added, glancing up at the FIA man in the room with them. “Can you find out how Pierre is? It’s not right to go on the podium until we know.”

“Max, are you okay?” Lewis asked tentatively. He stood up and grabbed another bottle of water from the table, crouching down in front of Max. “You don’t look so good.”

“Thanks,” Max mumbled, taking a big gulp from the bottle of water. “I’m just worried about Pierre, that’s all.” He sat with his head in his hands for a few minutes until the FIA man returned with news.

“He’s out of the car. Suspected broken arm; he’s in the medical centre for further checks.”

\---

Max read Pierre’s instagram story six times in the car on the way to the hospital. It was a photo of Pierre in a hospital gown giving the camera a thumbs up, and text which read “I’m okay! Thank you for all your kind words. I’ll be back asap! Now a little rest xxxxx”

It had taken Max a lot longer than he’d wanted to get away from the track and by the time he got to the hospital, Pyry and Charles were already with Pierre. Max headed inside Pierre’s side room and stopped just inside the door. Pierre was curled up on his side, fast asleep. He had a cast on his left arm and an IV in his right arm, supplying him with fluids and painkillers. Charles was sitting closest to him, gently stroking Pierre’s hair as he slept, whispering to him in quiet French.

Pyry stood up when he saw Max and ushered him out of the room; he knew Charles and Max weren’t friends and he didn’t want an argument to disturb Pierre. Pyry gestured for Max to sit down on a bench in the corridor and he sat down next to him.

“He should never have been driving,” Max said, pissed off that he wasn’t the one with Pierre, soothing him. “Did you know how much pain he was in, or did he hide it?”

“I knew,” Pyry replied. “But we gave him painkillers and he said it helped.”

“So the crash was just a coincidence?” Max asked, incredulous. 

“You saw the crash,” Pyry replied. “Anyone could have dropped their car like that.”

“I know, but…” Max trailed off, sighing and dragging his hands through his hair. “I’m worried, that’s all. I thought his pain would get better when he sorted his vitamins out. His mood is so much better these days. I just want him to be healthy, I don’t think that’s too much to ask. I want you to make him healthy, Pyry.”

“I’m trying my best.”

“Try  _ harder _ ,” Max pleaded. He stood up when Charles came out of the room and frowned at him.

“He’s asking for you,” Charles said politely.

“Thank you,” Max replied, equally as polite. “I’ll look after him now. You can go back to the hotel.”

Charles nodded, biting his lip. He wanted to support his friend but knew Max was territorial and protective and wouldn’t let anyone near Pierre. “Will you have someone call me tomorrow and update me on how he is?”

“Yes,” Max replied. “And congratulations on your win. You deserved it.”

Charles shrugged, blinking the tears away from his eyes. He’d give back his trophy immediately if it would make Pierre healthy again.

Max headed inside Pierre’s hospital room and sat down in the warm plastic chair that Charles had just vacated. He reached out and traced his fingers over Pierre’s cheek. “I’m here now,” he said softly. “Pierre?”

“I’m sorry,” Pierre whispered, too dehydrated to cry. He curled up in the bed more, wanting to get closer to Max.

“It’s okay,” Max soothed, wiping Pierre’s eyes, gently tracing his fingers over Pierre’s eyelids. “I’m here now. I told you I’d come to you as soon as I could. I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.”

Pierre nodded and kissed Max’s hand. “I’m scared.”

“I know you are,” Max said sympathetically, wrapping his other hand around Pierre’s back and holding him as best he could. “But you’re in the right place now. The Doctors are going to take good care of you. Get some sleep, okay? I’ll stay right here with you. You don’t need to worry about anything, sweet, I’ll take care of everything for you. You just rest.”

“His only injury is a broken arm,” Pyry explained from the doorway, breaking the silence that had fallen on the room. “He didn’t let go of the steering wheel and the crash twisted his arm.”

“He can’t drive like this,” Max said, gently covering Pierre’s ear so he wouldn’t overhear them. He was pretty sure Pierre was already asleep, or at least too spaced out from the painkillers to really understand what was going on. “Tell me the Austria trip is being moved forward, or that they can work with the Doctors here. I don’t want to see Pierre anywhere near a racing car until he has a proper diagnosis, because this is bullshit. This is more than just anxiety doing this, it’s got to be.”

“I agree,” Pyry said, nodding. “It’s more than just a vitamin deficiency too. I agree with you. I’ll fight hard for him, Max, I’ll fight until we get him a proper diagnosis. You have my word.”


	8. "Don't cry."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charles pushes Max for information, Max visits Pierre in Austria, and Pierre finally gets a diagnosis

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've updated this fic quite a lot over the past couple of days. Make sure you haven't missed any chapters. <3

“Max!” Charles called out to Max, following him down the paddock after the post-race press conference in Spain as they made their way back to their teams. Max had won the race and Charles had finished second. “Max, please, we need to talk about Pierre.”

“Not here,” Max hissed. He gestured for Charles to follow him into the Energy Station and they headed up the stairs to Max’s driver room. Max closed the door behind them and locked it, not wanting to be disturbed.

Charles buried his hands in his pockets, feeling deeply uncomfortable. He looked at the floor and frowned. “I feel really shut out,” he said, looking up. “I’m his best friend and I haven’t heard from him at all this week. I don’t even know which country he’s in. You don’t have to like me, but I need you to respect me and tell me what’s going on with him. Please, Max?”

“I haven’t spoken to him either,” Max replied, leaning against the massage table in his room. “He’s in Austria. He flew there after they let him out of the hospital on Monday afternoon. I haven’t seen him since I left the Netherlands on Monday morning. I only know what’s been happening because I’ve been speaking to Pyry every night.”

“What’s going on?” Charles asked, chewing his lip. “Because I have never seen him like he was after the race last Sunday. It fucking scared me.”

“Apparently it’s a process of elimination,” Max said, scratching the back of his head. “There’s a long list of things that  _ aren’t  _ wrong with him. Pyry said he’s sleeping a lot. He’s exhausted.”

“Yeah, but we’ve all been exhausted,” Charles replied. “Singapore last year I lost six kilos in the race and didn’t get out of bed for two days afterwards. This is something different.”

“I know, I know,” Max said, holding his hands up. “I’m not a Doctor. I don’t know what to tell you. I’m trying my best here, Charles. I’ll give Pyry your number and ask him to call you. He explains these things better than I do. All I know is he’s in Austria and he’s  _ hurting  _ and I wish I was there with him.”

Charles nodded, leaning back against the door and folding his arms over his chest. “When can you get out there?”

“Tuesday,” Max replied. “I’m at the factory tomorrow for debrief and then flying to Austria on Tuesday morning. I’ve had to tell Christian about our relationship. They’re trying their best to support him, we just have to wait and see if he can still drive.”

“Fuck,” Charles sighed, chewing his lip again. “This could really end his career?”

“If he’s in too much pain to drive, what choice does he have?” Max asked, feeling his chest tighten. “If he’s crying in agony every time he gets out of the car, what sort of future is that? We just have to wait and see what happens in Monaco.”

\---

Max fidgeted on the bed and screwed his eyes shut, more tears forming as Pierre delicately wiped his cheeks. Max had been in Austria for two days so far and he’d been on two gentle hikes with Pierre and Pyry, enjoying the sunny weather in the countryside surrounding Salzburg. Max was increasingly worried about Pierre, who was starting to get his days mixed up and was struggling with his short term memory.

“Don’t cry,” Pierre whispered, nuzzling Max’s face. “I’m okay.” Max had started crying when he’d hugged Pierre and Pierre had cried out in pain.

“Tell me how I can hold you without hurting you,” Max replied tentatively. “I need to hold you, sweet, I want to wrap my arms around you and take you away from everything, but I don’t want to hurt you.”

Pierre nodded and curled up against Max’s side, guiding Max’s arm around his hips. He placed his other hand on Max’s chest and didn’t wince when Max put his hand on top. “This is okay,” he said, trying to reassure Max.

“Am I hurting you?”

“No.”

Max lifted his head and kissed Pierre’s hair before settling back down against the pillow. “I love you, Pierre,” he said softly. “Whatever happens in the future, I’m going to stand by you, okay? I promise. Whether you’re back in Monaco kicking my arse, if you’re too stick to get out of bed, I’m going to look after you. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I don’t want to lose you.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” Pierre replied. “I’ve been scanned from the top of my head to the ends of my toes, and there’s nothing there. No lumps, no tumours, no worms, nothing at all that shouldn’t be there. My body is in perfect condition, apart from my broken arm.”

“I’m going to draw on it tomorrow,” Max said playfully. “If found, please return to, Max Verstappen.”

Pierre grinned and turned his head, kissing Max’s chest. “I doubt anyone can read your handwriting.”

“Do they know what’s causing the pain yet?” Max asked asked. “Because I don’t think it’s your vitamin D levels.”

“No, me either,” Pierre replied. “I think if you were to cut me in half, vitamin D would pour out. I am like liquid sunshine now. I don’t really understand what’s going on. The Doctors use a lot of long words. It’s still a process of elimination. It’s stupid because my symptoms are so  _ generic _ . Hi my name’s Pierre and I feel like shit. It’s like, wow, I’m not special, try finding an illness that  _ doesn’t  _ make you feel tired. Pain, too, is the body’s most basic response to things. Say your toe hurts. Have you walked into a door? Do you have bone cancer? How can you tell?”

“It’s stupid,” Max said. “I wish there was something I could do to help.”

“You help by cuddling me.”

“I wish there was something  _ more  _ I could do,” Max said, frowning. “I want to take you away from here. I don’t want them to poke you anymore or stick more needles in you. I want to take you home to Monaco, get a good bottle of wine, and sit on the balcony with you.”

“I love the sound of that,” Pierre admitted, kissing Max’s chest again. “Curl up under the blankets and eat nothing but tiramisu and ignore the rest of the world. I’d like that a lot. Let’s find a way to make that happen.”

“We can go now,” Max suggested. “We’ll sneak out from here in the middle of the night. We’ll steal a car and drive through the night.”

“That’s a stupid idea,” Pierre laughed. “We’re right near the airport. Let’s steal a helicopter and fly through the night. It’ll be so much faster.”

“Do you even know how to fly a helicopter?”

“Why should that stop us?” Pierre replied playfully. “This plan was unrealistic from the beginning. If we’re going to do it, we’ll do it properly. If we can cope with all the buttons in an F1 car, I’m sure we can figure out a helicopter. It’s not like it’ll have different engine maps or diff settings. It’s just up, down, forwards, backwards, left, and right. That’s six settings. We’ll do three each.”

“I love the way you think,” Max laughed. “If we do it properly, we won’t even need left, right, or backwards. Just up from Salzburg, straight forward to Monaco, then down onto the roof of our building.”

Pierre smiled and closed his eyes, yawning. “We’ll be home before breakfast.”

  
\---

Charles had always cried when other people cried. It was incredibly contagious to him and when Pierre stood in his kitchen and broke down his tears after explaining his diagnosis of fibromyalgia, Charles cried too. He wrapped his arms around Pierre and held him close as they both sank down onto the floor. Charles kept his arms around Pierre’s shoulders and Pierre fisted the back of Charles’s hoodie, hiding his face against Charles’s collar bone as his sobs shook his whole body.

Charles had lots of questions and Pierre could only choke out one word answers. Is it curable? No. Can you still drive? No. Where does it hurt? Everywhere.


	9. "We can do whatever you want"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pierre spends the afternoon with Charles after a flight.

Pierre dragged his suitcase through the arrivals hall at Nice airport and sat down on a bench to catch his breath. He only had one suitcase with him but he felt like he was pulling a tank along, it felt that heavy. He’d been in Rouen for two weeks staying with his parents while Max raced in Azerbaijan and then in Canada. Pierre had stayed in Monaco for the race there but had mostly hibernated for the week, too shy to go out and see anyone. After two weeks with his parents, he was ready to return home. His parents had tried their best to be supportive but after two weeks, Pierre was starting to feel smothered. He had to remind them he was still a 24-year-old; he hadn’t suddenly reverted to a child just because he was ill.

Pierre fidgeted on the bench and shrugged off his back pack, putting it on the floor next to his suitcase. He curled up slightly, catching his breath, and then leant back against the wall behind him. He pulled his hoodie up over his head, not wanting anyone to recognise him and he closed his eyes for a few moments. His two choices for getting back to Monaco were either the train, or a taxi. Pierre didn’t feel like he had the energy for either. He wanted Monaco to come to him.

Pierre pulled his phone out of his pocket and held it in his lap, feeling too exhausted to even swipe it unlocked. Instead, he lifted it closer to his face. “Hey Siri,” he said, “call Charles Leclerc.”

Pierre screwed his face up slightly at the robotic, American way Siri butchered Charles’s name but she agreed to initiate the call and Pierre held his phone against his ear, his grip weak.

“Salut, Pierre!” Charles’s voice was warm and comforting and Pierre was grateful he didn’t have to try thinking in English again yet. He barely had the energy to form French words.

“Pierre, are you there?” Charles asked when Pierre said nothing. “Talk to me. Pierre?”

“I’m at the airport,” Pierre said, closing his eyes, nudging his suitcase with his foot to check it was still there and hadn’t been stolen. “Are you busy? Can you come and get me?”

“Of course I can. It’ll take me forty-five minutes to get there. Can you wait that long? Whereabouts are you?”

“Arrivals. I can wait.” Pierre ended the call and slipped his phone back into his pocket. He put his legs either side of his suitcase and then folded his arms over his chest, trying his best to relax back on the bench as he closed his eyes again and tried to take a nap.

Forty-three minutes later, Pierre felt someone shaking his shoulder. He jolted awake, gasping as a bolt of pain shot through his upper back but he smiled when he saw Charles peering back at him.

“Come on, sleepy head, let’s get you out of here,” Charles said. He pulled Pierre’s bag over his back and grabbed the handle of Pierre’s suitcase, manoeuvring it out of the way so Pierre could stand up. “Can you walk?”

“I’m not paralysed,” Pierre pointed out as he pushed himself up from the bench, smoothing his hoodie against his chest and patting his pockets to make sure he hadn’t lost his phone or wallet. 

“So you don’t need a piggy back then?” Charles teased, taking Pierre’s hand without saying anything else because he could see how unsteady Pierre was on his feet. He guided Pierre out of arrivals through to the short-stay car park, letting Pierre dictate the pace at which they moved.

When they got to the car, Pierre rolled his eyes. “You couldn’t bring anything more subtle?” he asked, watching as Charles lifted his luggage into the boot of the bright red Ferrari.

“This was the first set of keys I grabbed, I swear,” Charles replied, closing the boot lid and opening the passenger door for Pierre. He frowned as Pierre climbed into the passenger seat, wincing. Pierre reached for the seatbelt but couldn’t quite reach it, unable to twist as much as was needed. Charles grabbed the seatbelt and reached into the car, pulling the belt across Pierre’s lap and buckling it.

Charles leant back out of the car and crouched down, pressing his hand against the edge of Pierre’s seat to keep his balance and looking up at Pierre. “Tell me what you need from me,” he said softly. His relationship with Pierre had always been loving, but matter of fact. There had never been gushy comments or sympathetic coos, just identifying problems and dealing with them head on.

“I just need to rest,” Pierre replied, putting his hand on top of Charles’s and gently squeezing it. He’d never been good at making a fuss and though he wanted a long list of things (a warm bed, tiramisu, cuddles with Max, a drink, to not be in pain, to have more energy, to have his drive back) there was really only one thing Charles could do for him - provide somewhere safe for the afternoon. “Can we go back to yours?”

“Of course.” Charles squeezed Pierre’s hand and then let go, standing up and carefully closing the door. He climbed into the driver’s seat and put on a quiet radio station for the drive back to Monaco. By the time he asked Pierre if the temperature in the car was comfortable for him, Pierre had already fallen asleep again.

Charles parked in the underground car park and emptied the boot, placing Pierre’s luggage next to the lift before going back for his friend. He pulled open the door and unbuckled Pierre’s seatbelt before squeezing his shoulder. “Wake up, Pierre.”

“I’m awake,” Pierre murmured, reaching up and rubbing his eyes. He let out a big yawn and then took Charles’s hand, letting himself be pulled out of the car. It took him a few seconds to stand up completely straight but then he was ready to go. “Did I sleep the whole time?”

“Yes,” Charles replied, dragging Pierre’s luggage into the lift and hitting the button for the top floor. “I was really bored with nobody to talk to.”

Pierre smiled and leant his head on Charles’s shoulder. “I’m awake now,” he said, feeling a little brighter than he had at the airport. “I want to hear all about Baku and Canada. Two podiums is good.”

“It should have been two wins,” Charles replied, kissing Pierre’s cheek. “But the team screwed me over in Baku and then some dickhead you call your _ amour _screwed me in Canada.”

“What a dickhead,” Pierre grinned, pulling away as the lift doors opened. He shuffled down the corridor behind Charles and kicked off his shoes once they were inside the apartment. He made his way straight to the living room, dumping his phone and wallet on the coffee table before collapsing down onto the sofa. “What happened in Baku? I fell asleep after Alex crashed.”

Charles went into the kitchen and poured Pierre a large glass of water, shouting his answer across his apartment as he moved. “The team told me Seb was faster. They told me to let him past.” When he got into the living room, he placed the glass of water on the coffee table and then sat down on the sofa next to Pierre. “Which I did, obviously, but then it turned out he wasn’t faster after all. But by then I’d dropped back too much and it was too risky with Lewis for Seb to slow down and let me past again. So I finished third.”

“That sucks,” Pierre said, resting his head against the back of the sofa. “Can I be really rude and ask for a straw please?”

“Sure, of course.” Charles was careful not to rock the sofa too much as he climbed off it and fetched a straw from the kitchen. He had a set of metal reusable straws that Pierre had gifted him as part of a lecture about the environment. When Pierre had explained that humans needed to stop using plastic to help the fish populations, Charles had questions why humans just stopped eating fish to help the fish populations. 

“Thank you,” Pierre said quietly, holding the glass in his lap and sipping through the straw. “I’m still really stiff from the flight.” It was only an hour and a half to fly from Paris to Nice but Pierre had curled up and slept in a small seat and felt like a pretzel by the time the plane landed. 

“When’s Max coming back?” Charles asked, sitting back down on the sofa, tucking his knees to his chest.

“Tomorrow,” Pierre replied. “He’s at the factory today and then his flight is tomorrow morning, so he should be home by lunchtime.”

“You’re welcome to stay as long as you want,” Charles offered. “The guest room is still tidy.”

\---

Charles pushed open the door to the guest room and peered inside. The room was lit only by the lights of the city but Charles could see that Pierre was asleep. Pierre had kicked the duvet covers away and was sprawled out on his back, wearing one of Charles’s t-shirts and a pair of jogging bottoms that were from Charles’s wardrobe but might have been left there by him. His hair was still damp from the long, hot shower he’d taken and his bottle of painkillers was on the bedside table next to a glass of water.

Charles quietly pulled the door closed again and went to the living room, stretching out on the sofa and turning on the TV. He didn’t really care what he watched, but at ten o’clock it didn’t feel late enough to go to bed. He still felt slightly jet-lagged from Canada.

Charles jumped when Pierre’s phone started vibrating on the coffee table and he looked at the screen to see an incoming call from Max. Charles picked up the phone and swiped at the screen, answering the call. “Hey Max, it’s Charles.”

“Is Pierre with you?”

_ Hi Charles _, Charles thought, filling in the greeting in his head. “Yeah, he asked me to pick him up from the airport. He said you get back tomorrow lunchtime so I offered him to stay the night here.”

“No, I changed my flight,” Max explained. “I told him this morning. I just got back to the apartment.”

Charles shifted on the sofa and moved the phone to his other ear. “He’s asleep right now. Do you want me to wake him up and bring him home?”

“No, if he’s comfortable, leave him there. Can I come over?”

“Of course,” Charles replied. “He’s in the guest room. There’s plenty of space. Have you eaten? We have leftovers from dinner you can have.” Charles had never been too fond of Max, he’d always found him to be too smug and entitled, but Pierre loved him more than anything and therefore Charles had to care about him too. 

“Thank you,” Max replied and Charles smiled when he heard in Max’s voice how much he was struggling to be nice. “Text me your address.”

Charles didn’t get a chance to say good bye before Max ended the call. Charles put Pierre’s phone back on the coffee table and used his own phone to send Max his address. He tidied up his living room as best he could, not wanting Max to think he lived in a dump and he answered the door promptly when Max arrived fifteen minutes later.

Max didn’t say anything as Charles welcomed him inside the apartment, wordlessly kicking off his shoes next to Pierre’s. He had his hands buried in his pockets and he followed Charles through the apartment to the guest room. Charles opened the door and then turned to Max. “I’ll go get you some dinner.”

“Thank you,” Max whispered, stepping inside the room. Pierre was curled up on his side now, his eyes wide open as he stared out of the window at the night sky. Max hurried over to him and knelt down next to the bed. He reached out and cupped Pierre’s cheek, tapping Pierre’s nose with his thumb. “Hi.”

“Hi,” Pierre replied, smiling at Max. “Did you get an earlier flight? I thought you weren’t coming back till tomorrow.”

“We talked on the phone this morning, do you remember?” Max asked gently, kissing Pierre’s forehead. “I changed my flight.”

“Oh yeah.”

“Are you comfortable here?” Max asked, brushing his thumb over Pierre’s lip, missing how Pierre felt in his arms. He hadn’t seen Pierre since leaving for Baku. “Do you want me to take you home?”

“I don’t want to move,” Pierre whispered, curling up even more. “Can we stay here?”

“We can do whatever you want,” Max promised, kissing Pierre’s forehead again. “I’m going to go and get something to eat, but then I’ll come right back, okay? Charles said we can sleep here.”

Pierre nodded, waiting until Max reached the door before calling for him. He rolled onto his back and folded his hands behind his head. 

“What is it?” Max asked, turning back to Pierre, one hand on the door handle.

“Are you going to be okay?” Pierre asked, a small grin on his cheeks. “Sleeping in enemy territory like this?”

Max rolled his eyes and crossed the room, pulling the duvet covers back up to Pierre’s chest. He leant over Pierre and kissed him, brushing Pierre’s hair out of his face as he pulled away. “Only if I have you here to protect me,” he smirked. “I’ll be brave.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The words just kind of fell out for this chapter, wrote the whole thing in under an hour. Hopefully it comes across as gentle.


	10. “You don’t ever need to apologise to me for feeling like this.”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pierre makes his first visit to a race after his diagnosis. Max takes a decision that will have a massive impact on their future.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter where the words just fell out. Next update might not be for a few days because my boyfriend and I are going away for the weekend.

“Just fuck off then!” Pierre shouted, grabbing handle on the front door to their apartment. “If I’m going to make you so late, then just fucking go without me!” Pierre yanked the door open and turned to Max, his chest heaving. He was still in the clothes he’d slept in - one of Max’s t-shirts and his underwear - whereas Max was ready to leave the house, clad head to toe in Red Bull kit.

“Is that really what you want?” Max snapped. They were arguing because Max was past his planned leaving time to go to Paul Ricard for Wednesday’s media day. When Max had woken up that morning, Pierre was already in a bad mood. “You want me to leave you here?!”

“I don’t  _ know _ !” Pierre cried. He slammed the door shut and then turned around, sinking down to the floor. He rested his back against the door and tucked his knees to his chest. “I don’t know, okay?” he asked, his voice cracking. “I don’t know.”

Max sighed, dragging his hands through his hair, and he moved to sit down on the floor in front of Pierre. He reached out and gently put his hands on Pierre’s knees. “Listen to me, okay?” he said, his anger melting away. “Everyone would love to see you at the track today but nobody is going to force you to do anything you don’t want to.”

Pierre screwed his eyes shut and pressed the back of his head against the door, hugging his shins tighter. “I want to see everyone,” he said, frustrated, “but not today. I just can’t. I didn’t even get two hours of sleep last night. I can’t handle seeing anyone today. I can’t handle seeing the car today. I can’t handle-”

Max cut Pierre off with a kiss to his forehead and he pulled Pierre into his arms. “Then stay here,” he said, nuzzling Pierre’s hair. “Stay here and rest and we’ll try again another day. If you are in tears just thinking about leaving the house, then you shouldn’t come today.”

“I’m sorry I’ve made you late,” Pierre sniffed, wrapping his arms around Max’s shoulders.

“I don’t care,” Max replied. “They can fucking wait for me. I only care about you.”

Pierre sniffed again, wiping his tears away, careful not to get Max’s shirt damp. He pulled away from Max completely and dried his eyes. “I’m sorry I told you to fuck off.”

“It’s okay,” Max said, standing up. He reached out a hand and pulled Pierre to his feet. “What are you going to do today?”

“I’ll try and get out for a walk,” Pierre said, letting Max guide him back to their bed. “Fresh air is good for you, apparently. And I’ll make sure I eat as well.”

“Correct answer,” Max said, pulling back the covers and then gently tucking Pierre in. He reached down and kissed Pierre, smoothing his hair away from his face. “Get some rest. I’ll be back tonight.”

\---

Pierre spun around in the paddock when he heard his name called in a familiar voice and he smiled brightly when he saw Carlos jogging over to him, Lando following closely behind. Pierre winced as Carlos pulled him into a tight cuddle. Carlos immediately let him go and Pierre took a small step backwards.

“Fuck, I’m sorry,” Carlos apologised. “I don’t want to hurt you, my friend. I’m just so happy to see you.”

“You too,” Pierre replied. “I’m sorry I didn’t come to see you earlier. It’s been a stupidly busy day.”

“Did I hurt you?” Carlos asked nervously, putting his hand on Lando’s chest to stop him from rugby tackling Pierre into another hug.

“No, it’s okay,” Pierre replied. “I was already hurting. Plus I’ve had a lot of hugs today. It’s really good to see you guys.”

“It’s really good to see you too,” Lando said, offering Pierre a sympathetic smile. “How are you doing? I know that’s a stupid question, I’m sorry, obviously you’re not  _ fine  _ otherwise you would still be racing.”

“I’m okay,” Pierre replied, trying his best to sound like he believed it. “I’m just taking each day as it comes right now. I can’t make any long term plans yet. Every day I feel different.”

“Will you come to Silverstone?” Carlos asked. “It would be good to see you properly. You can stay at my house if hotels are too hard for you. Maybe you and Max could stay on for a couple of days afterwards.”

“Yeah, that would be great,” Lando agreed, nodding. “We can go and play golf or something.”

“We’ll see,” Pierre replied, nervously rubbing his hands together. “I’ll talk to Max. I’d like to come. I haven’t seen your new house yet.” Pierre glanced at his watch and sighed. “I’ve got to. I’m meeting the guys to get the helicopter back to Monaco. “Good luck for the race tomorrow. Try not to hit each other at turn one.”

“No chance of that happening,” Carlos replied, kissing Pierre’s cheek. “Lando’s agreed to let me past.”

“I fucking  _ haven’t _ !” Lando laughed, reaching out and squeezing Pierre’s shoulder. “Take care of yourself, Pierre. I hope we’ll see you soon.”

“You too,” Pierre replied, offering his friends another smile before turning to leave the paddock. He met up with Daniel outside the Renault garage and met Max and Charles by the turnstiles. Pierre’s big red pass had been deactivated, and replaced with a smaller green one. He was no longer Pierre Gasly - Alpha Tauri Driver, he was Max Verstappen VIP Guest #1. He didn’t mind that so much.

\---

Max held Pierre’s hand for the whole of the helicopter ride, and he held Pierre’s hand for the whole of the car ride back to their apartment. It had been a strange day for him, seeing Pierre in the Energy Station but not in formal team kit. Pierre sat on the sofa in silence while Max cooked a simple dinner of chicken, rice, and vegetables and the two of them curled up watching junk on the TV while they ate.

“It scares me when you’re quiet like this,” Max said after clearing away the plates. “Tell me what’s going on in your head.”

“You’re quiet too,” Pierre pointed out. “Tell me what’s going on in  _ your  _ head.”

Max smirked; Pierre did have a point, as well as an uncanny ability to know when Max was stewing about something. What he didn’t realise was that he and Pierre were thinking about the same thing. “Okay, on the count of three, we share.”

Pierre nodded and waited for Max to count to three before blurting out, “I don’t want to keep our relationship secret anymore.” It took Max slightly less time to say “I want to go public about our relationship” and the two of them sat staring at each other for a few seconds.

“I hated today,” Max admitted, moving to sit closer to Pierre on the sofa. “Seeing you at the track, not being able to come and cuddle you. There were times you look like you wanted to cry and I wish I had been able to do something about it.”

“I feel like it’s pointless me being there,” Pierre replied. “I want to come to the races but I need something to do. I kind of liked being your VIP Guest. I want to do that more. I felt so lost today. I felt like I was in the way. It was good to see everyone, but they’re so busy and I don’t know where I fit in anymore.”

“How’s your pain right now?” Max asked. “Can I lie on you?” When Pierre nodded and patted his lap, Max gently placed a cushion on top and moved to lie down on his back on the sofa, his head and shoulders resting across Pierre’s thighs.

Pierre relaxed back on the sofa and sifted his fingers through Max’s hair with one hand, letting his other hand rest on Max’s chest. The feeling of Max’s breathing helped Pierre to relax and he closed his eyes, sinking into the cushions.

“I’ll talk to Christian tomorrow,” Max said, closing his eyes and turning his head towards Pierre’s touch. “Our families already know. Our friends already know. It’s our fourth anniversary in a few weeks.”

“How would you want to go public?” Pierre asked curiously.

“With as little fuss as possible,” Max replied. “I don’t need a big press conference or anything. My sexuality is nobody’s fucking business. I’d probably just put a photo of us on instagram or something. A caption like ‘hi by the way I’m dating Pierre thanks’”

“Sounds really romantic,” Pierre laughed. 

“It’s still nobody’s business,” Max explained, “I just wouldn’t want there to be a big drama if you came to a race and I kissed you. I get jealous of everyone else and their partners. If you’re going to be in the paddock and not driving, I want to be able to hold your hand. There’s been so many times I’ve almost blurted it out.”

“I just want to live my life in peace,” Pierre said. “Can I get a t-shirt that says I’m your number one fan? I’ll break hearts of mothers and teenage girls everywhere.”

Max burst out laughing and sat up on the sofa. “Because I have so many fans who want to sleep with me, right?” he grinned, rolling his eyes. “I think you’d upset more people, that sexy French accent of yours.”

“What will they caption me on the TV?” Pierre wondered aloud. “Will I be Pierre Gasly, Former F1 Driver, or Pierre Gasly, Max Verstappen’s Boyfriend?”

“Why not both?” Max suggested. “Unless there’s a character limit on the graphic. Maybe the graphic will take up the whole screen. I’ll talk to Christian, they probably have to come up with some bullshit plan between the bosses and legal and marketing, but if it takes them too long then I’ll just fucking post something anyway.”

\---

When Max finally got back to the apartment after the race, he kicked off his shoes and dumped his bag in the hallway. Pierre wasn’t in the living room and he wasn’t in the bedroom either. Max found him sitting on the floor in the bathroom, his knees tucked to his chest and his arms wrapped around the shins. He was wearing a towel around his hips from the shower and he was crying.

Max sat down on the floor in front of Pierre and reached out, brushing Pierre’s wet hair away from his eyes. “Talk to me, sweet,” he said gently. He was still practicing at working out the reasons Pierre cried, and he couldn’t tell if it was due to depression, anxiety, pain, fatigue, or something else.

Pierre looked down at the floor and shrugged. It was a combination of everything. 

Max moved to sit next to Pierre, mirroring his position and he dipped his head, pressing a soft kiss on Pierre’s bare shoulder. “I’m sorry I don’t have a trophy to bring you today,” he said, his own voice cracking as his eyes glazed over. “I tried my best, but I just wasn’t good enough today.”

Pierre rested his head on Max’s shoulder and closed his eyes, hot tears slowly trickling down his cheeks.

“I did talk to Christian though,” Max said, and Pierre cuddled a little bit closer. “I told him our anniversary is the 10th of July. I told him he’s got until then to do what he needs to with legal and marketing, but after that, I’m done hiding. I’m not letting you come to another race and pretend we’re just friends. I love you more than anything, and if anyone has a problem with that, they can suck my dick.”

“Not literally,” Pierre said, his voice barely more than a whisper. Even though he felt terrible, Max had a way of reaching the part of him that wanted to be positive, and he was positive he didn’t want Max sleeping with anyone else.

“No, not literally,” Max replied, smiling through his tears. “You’re the only person I ever want coming near me.”

“I love you.”

“I love you too,” Max replied, kissing Pierre’s forehead before standing up. “Come on, we can’t sit on the floor all night. Do you need some of those hardcore painkillers the Doctor gave you?”

Max reached one hand out to pull Pierre to his feet but Pierre didn’t move.

“Pierre?” Max asked, wiping away the last of his tears and frowning slightly at Pierre. “Can you get up for me?”

Pierre shook his head, biting his lip.

“Let me help you then,” Max said, not caring if it was the pain or the stiffness or the fucking exhaustion of mental health that was keeping Pierre on the floor. It all had the same outcome - Pierre needed his help. Max gently reached one arm under Pierre’s legs and when Pierre leant forward, Max wrapped his other arm around Pierre’s back and scooped him up off the floor. He felt lighter than he’d ever been and Max carried him through to the bedroom, gently settling him down on the mattress. The pillows were already propped up against the headboard from where Pierre had been sitting in bed earlier.

“I’m sorry,” Pierre whispered as Max gently pulled his legs straight, massaging them as he went. He sighed heavily, feeling like he had the weight of the world on his shoulders and he didn’t react as Max gently massaged his hands and arms as well.

“You don’t ever need to apologise to me for feeling like this,” Max said, lifting Pierre’s hands and kissing his knuckles. 

“I just-”

“-just nothing,” Max interrupted. “No apologies. Did you eat today?”

Pierre shook his head. “I feel too nauseous.”

“Did you take your scheduled medication today?”

“Yes.” Pierre had labelled alarms on his phone for the time of day and what medication he needed to take. Sometimes he felt as if he would rattle if he was shaken hard enough. 

“Well you can’t have those bigger painkillers on an empty stomach,” Max said apologetically. “So I’ll make you something simple, just toast so it won’t make you sick, and then you can have more drugs and hopefully some sleep.”

Max helped Pierre eat the toast without getting crumbs all over the mattress and he gave Pierre pain medication that he hoped would take the edge off, aware that if he took the drugs himself it’d probably be enough to knock him out, and he watched over Pierre until Pierre fell asleep. Max stroked Pierre’s hair to try and soothe him into having nice dreams before Max eventually fell asleep himself. When Max jolted awake at five o’clock the next morning, the first thing he heard was Pierre throwing up in the bathroom.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think this the first universe I've written where I can actually believe a driver being openly gay. I hope it seems plausible to you as well. I think Max has enough DILLIGAF about him that he could handle it.


	11. "I don't know if I'm courageous"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Max and Pierre go public with their relationship. Everybody apart from one person is supportive.

“Are you nervous?” Pierre asked curiously, watching as Max tapped and swiped at his phone, gathering and editing several images to put together in an Instagram post. His last post had been about how happy he was to have won in Austria again but this new post felt a lot more significant.

“Not even slightly,” Max replied, grinning. “Why should I be nervous? I’m writing a post about how much I love you. You don’t make me nervous.”

“I make you nervous all the time!” Pierre laughed, reaching out and kicking Max in the leg. They’d spent the morning of their anniversary in bed and their afternoon out on a boat on the ocean, making sure to keep out of the direct sunlight because not only did it give Pierre a headache, Max also burned really easily.

“Not about this,” Max replied, tapping the publish button and locking his phone. “Done. It’s out there now, no going back. You and me, we’re officially the best couple in F1.”

“What about Carlos and Lando?”

“Fuck those guys,” Max laughed. “If they want to stay hidden in the closet, that’s up them. I’m done hiding. Fuck being discreet.” Max unlocked his phone and opened instagram to find that he already had 26 comments and 350 likes on his post.

Pierre swiped at his iPad screen and opened his Instagram app. The first post on his timeline was the gallery post from Max and Pierre swiped through the images before reading the caption. The first image was of Max and Pierre together on the podium in Brazil; the second was of Pierre standing proudly next to a metre-high sandcastle he’d built; the third was a selfie Pierre had taken with Max cuddled up against him, and the fourth image was a photo of the two of them asleep together on a beanbag one of the the many nights they’d spent on Daniel’s balcony. When Daniel had originally sent Max the photo and called them Sleeping Beauties, Max had told him to fuck off.

Pierre swiped back to the selfie and then read the caption.  _ Fourth anniversary with this guy today. Best four years of my life. He’s the most courageous man I know. Here’s to the next four years.  _ The caption was closed off with some celebratory and heart emojis.

“I had a big long caption typed out,” Max explained, “but then I deleted it and replaced it with something shorter. Is it okay?”

“I don’t know if I’m courageous,” Pierre replied, shrugging, “but I think it’s a nice caption.”

“No, courageous is the right word,” Max said, opening the dictionary app on his phone. He definitely had the right spelling in English for the word he wanted and he read the definition to Pierre. “ Courage is the choice and willingness to confront agony, pain, danger, uncertainty, or intimidation.”

“Stop.”

Max reached down and squeezed Pierre’s foot lovingly. “It was either that or I spend three paragraphs talking about how much I like it when you fuck me,” he teased. “Would you like me to share the story of the time you kicked me in the face in bed?”

“No!” Pierre kicked Max again and then made a new post on his own Instagram account. Max had four times as many followers as Pierre so Pierre doubted anyone would see his post anyway. He shared a selfie that Max had taken when they’d spent the weekend in New York. Max had his arms outstretched and was grinning at the camera; Pierre was cuddling Max, his back to the camera and his face hidden against Max’s neck. He added a shorter caption to the post.  _ 4 years  _ and a heart emoji and then published it.

\---

Pierre spent most of the next day curled up in bed playing on his phone. Max went for a long bike ride and spent time in the gym, and Pierre responded to as many text messages as he could. Daniel offered to fight anyone who gave them grief about being in a relationship; Daniil wished him good luck; Carlos told him he’d break hearts of teenage girls everywhere; Lando told him he didn’t tag Max in the photo and that he’d get more views if he put it in his story as well; Sebastian sent his best wishes.

Pierre smiled to himself as he read some of the more popular comments on Max’s Instagram post. Lando asked if being gay was a requirement for the Red Bull junior program. Alex commented and told them they were cute together. Carlos commented and said they all should have been on the podium together in Brazil. Daniel commented and told him his boyfriend was hot. The official F1 account commented and congratulated Max, tagging Pierre as well. Pierre chose to skip over the negative comments.

Dragging himself out of bed and stuffing his phone into the pocket on his hoodie, Pierre headed into the bathroom. His legs were heavy and his neck felt stiff. He prodded and squeezed his shoulders as he sat on the toilet, trying to loosen himself up. As he stood up straight, the small of his back twinged and he groaned in frustration as he flushed and washed his hands. Moving around made him ache, but staying in bed all day made him ache too. He wished Red Bull had let him keep Pyry to himself, but unfortunately he’d been recalled to work with Pierre’s replacement.

As Pierre made his way back toward the bed, he heard muffled shouting nearby. He pulled open the curtain to the bedroom window and saw Max and his Father on the balcony. Jos had Max pinned up against the wall, his arm across Max’s throat. Max was trying to pull Jos off of him, and they were both shouting.

Pierre hurried out of the bedroom and through the living room to the balcony door. He went to pull it open but found that it was locked from the outside. Pierre rattled the handle but the door wouldn’t budge. Out on the balcony, Pierre saw Jos let go of Max and when Max stepped forward, still shouting at Jos, Jos punched him. Max staggered backwards, falling against the wall.

“Max!” Pierre shouted and pounded his fist against the door. It still didn’t budge. Pierre didn’t have the strength to kick the door enough to break the lock, so he grabbed the nearest heavy object he could find, a concrete plant pot and he used that to smash the glass in the door. Pierre dropped the pot and reached his arm through the broken glass, undoing the lock from the outside. He pushed the door open and stepped out onto the balcony.

The sound of the glass breaking was enough to interrupt Jos and he turned away from Max - who was now sitting on the ground - and Jos launched himself at Pierre, crowding him back into the house. Jos pushed Pierre up against the wall in the living room, grabbing Pierre’s hoodie and forcing him up onto his tiptoes.

“Let me go,” Pierre said calmly, “and get the fuck out of my home.”

Jos let go of Pierre and Pierre ducked as Jos swung for him. He missed, punching a hole in the wall instead. 

“Get out!” Pierre shouted, scaring himself with how loud his voice was. He shoved Jos in the chest and pushed him towards the front door.

“Whose money paid for this apartment?” Jos asked coldly.

“Mine,” Pierre hissed, ripping the front door open. “Now get the fuck out before I call the police.” He stood as tall as he could, his chest heaving and when Jos admitted defeat and left the apartment, Pierre slammed the door and locked it, sinking down to his knees.

Pierre reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. “Siri, call Daniel Ricciardo.”

It didn’t take long for Daniel to answer. “Hey, Pierre!” he greeted him, his voice bright.

“Daniel can you come over?” Pierre asked quickly, the words falling out of his mouth in a thick accent because he had barely spoken all day. “Jos was just here and he argued with Max and Max is hurt and I really need your help because-”

“Pierre, hey, slow down,” Daniel interrupted. “I can’t understand you. Take a deep breath and tell me what’s going on.”

Pierre screwed his eyes shut and forced himself to take a slow breath. “I need your help,” he said, the words clearer this time even with the dropped Hs. “Jos was here. Max is hurt.”

“I’ll be right there.”

Daniel ended the call before Pierre had a chance to and Pierre pushed himself back up to his feet, hurrying back out to the balcony. Max was still sitting on the floor, his hands in his lap and his legs out in front of him. He had blood pouring from his nose and tears streaming down his cheeks as he cried hysterically.

Pierre sat down next to Max and pulled him into his arms. “He’s gone,” Pierre soothed, nuzzling the top of Max’s head. “I called Daniel. He’s coming over.”

“I thought he was okay with us,” Max cried, grabbing at Pierre’s arms, wanting him closer. “I thought he accepted it. I thought he was okay with it, but he’s not.” Max’s sentences were punctuated with sobs and he struggled to breathe properly. “He’s not okay with us going public.”

“He’s wrong,” Pierre said, holding Max as close as he could, ignoring the screaming muscles in his shoulders. “He’s wrong, Max. We’ve done the right thing for us.” He knew Max craved his Father’s approval, and when he didn’t get it, he was furious with himself.

“How can you say that?”

“Because I mean it,” Pierre insisted. “Remember what you said yesterday? You’re done hiding, remember?” Pierre rest his head against Max’s as Max cried harder, unable to piece together what had happened. On one hand, Jos seemed to accept his sexuality and had happily hosted Max and Pierre at his house. On the other hand, Jos had just screamed at Max that he’d made a terrible mistake by going public and that he’d ruin the reputation Jos had worked so hard to build up.

The two of them sat in each other’s arms until Daniel arrived. He had a key to their apartment (they’d given out a few spares) and had let himself in. Daniel was concerned by the fist-shaped hole in the wall in the living room and alarmed by the broken glass all over the balcony. He took one look at Max and Pierre and then hurried over to them, crouching down next to them.

“Hey you two,” Daniel said softly, one hand on Max’s arm and one hand on Pierre’s. “What the hell happened here? There’s a hole in the wall and broken glass and Max, you’re bleeding. Come on, let’s get you cleaned up.”

Daniel stood up and held out his hand, pulling Max up to his feet. “Go to the bathroom,” he said calmly, “and be careful of all the broken glass. I’ll sweep it up.” Daniel reached both hands out to Pierre. “You did the right thing by calling me,” he said, pulling Pierre more gently than he’d pulled Max. He helped guide Pierre inside the apartment where they found Max stood still, his gaze fixed on the whole in the wall.

“Max?”

“Did he hit you?” Max asked tentatively, seeing that the hole in the wall was at head height.

“No,” Pierre replied, reaching for Max’s hand. “He missed.”

“But he  _ tried  _ to hit you?”

“You’re bleeding, come on,” Pierre replied, changing the subject. He pulled Max through to the bathroom and pushed him down onto the closed toilet seat lid.

“Do you have any ice blocks or frozen peas?” Daniel asked Pierre. Pierre nodded and shuffled out of the bathroom, leaving Daniel to focus his attention fully on Max. The blood from his face had trickled down his neck and seeped into his t-shirt.

“I don’t understand,” Max said, trying his best to help Daniel pull his t-shirt over his head. “He said such horrible things. He said I’m a disgrace to the family and he called Pierre a whore.” Max winced as Daniel wiped his face clean with a towel and he closed his eyes. “He said being gay is disgusting.”

“He’s wrong about all of those things, Max,” Daniel said, wetting the towel and wiping the last of the blood off of Max’s jaw and neck. “You’re a beautiful person, there’s nothing disgusting about you.”

“But I’m still a disgrace,” Max protested weakly, too ashamed to open his eyes and look at Daniel.

“No, not even slightly,” Daniel replied. “If you were part of my family, I’d be the proudest guy in the world.”

“You have to say those things,” Max said. “You’re my friend.”

“And he’s your Father,” Daniel pointed out. “He should be saying them too. He should be screaming from the rooftops about how proud he is of you. Hell, anyone who can race in F1 and hold down a relationship is something to be proud of, but when it’s you as well? It’s fucking amazing, Max. What you and Pierre have is a beautiful thing. Don’t you ever think any differently.”

“I’ve got ice,” Pierre said quietly from the doorway and Max’s eyes shot open, unsure how long Pierre had been standing there listening to their conversation.

“Thanks, mate,” Daniel said, accepting the block of ice Pierre had wrapped in a thin towel and pressing it against Max’s eye. Max winced and Daniel guided Max’s hand up to hold the ice in place. “Don’t let go.”

Max nodded and Daniel turned his attention to Pierre. “Let’s get you cleaned up as well,” he said, guiding Pierre down to perch on the edge of the bath. 

Pierre’s hoodie was covered in blood and he bit his lip as Daniel pulled it off over his head. It was only then he noticed that his arm was bleeding. He wiped the blood with his hand and found a couple of cuts on his arm. “I must have cut it on the door.”

“Did you smash that?”

Pierre nodded. “It was locked. Max was outside.”

“Good man,” Daniel said, pulling open the mirrored cabinet and retrieving the first aid kit. He unzipped it and pulled out two plasters for the cuts. “And you didn’t stand in any glass?” he checked, lifting Pierre’s legs one by one to check the bottom of his feet. He brushed away a few little specks of glass but was reassured to find no blood.

Daniel gently cleaned Pierre’s arm and covered the two cuts with plasters before squeezing Pierre’s hand and placing his arm back in his lap. He stood up and balled up the two hoodies. “I think I should stay here tonight,” he said, “I can help get the wall and the door fixed tomorrow. What do you want to do about Jos? Do you want me to call the police?”

“No,” Max replied quickly. “I don’t want them involved. I’ll sleep on it and decide what I want to do tomorrow.”

Pierre scooted down the edge of the bathtub until he could reach Max and he reached out, putting his hand on Max’s shoulder. “We don’t have to call the police,” he said reassuringly, “we’ll support whatever you decide. I just want to take you to bed and cuddle you now.”

“That sounds like a great idea,” Daniel said warmly, “I’ll clean up as much as I can, and I’ll see you two in the morning. Grab me if you need  _ anything  _ overnight, okay?” He waited for both Pierre and Max to acknowledge him before leaving the room. He found a dustpan and brush in the kitchen and swept up all the broken glass on the balcony, wrapping it in three plastic bags before putting it in the bin. He pulled the curtain over the balcony door to keep the overnight breeze out and he pulled the chain across the front door before checking on Max and Pierre one last time and going to bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love fierce, protective Pierre. And helpful Daniel. We'll see more of them in the next chapter. I've been away for the weekend and pretty much spent the whole time working out what's going to happen next in this. Just need to smash out the writing part. Someone give Max a cuddle.


	12. "A staircase is no place for a heart attack, is it?"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jos scares Pierre. Pierre tries too hard to look after Max and it comes back to bite him. Lando calls an ambulance for the first time in his life, and Pierre finally realises he needs to take better care of him self.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A big heckin' 5,000 word update for you. This is all that I imagined while I was away over the weekend. I already know what the next chapter is and things will start to get a little more positive again. Writing this is making me sad and I don't want to be sad.

“Are you sure you’re comfortable?”

“For the tenth time, Daniel, yes, I’m sure,” Pierre replied, rolling his eyes. He was lying on the sofa under a blanket with a cushion behind his head, a cushion against his side, a cushion in the small over his back, and a cushion behind his knees. His phone was within arm’s reach on the coffee table, as was a glass of water with a straw in it. The pain and fatigue from yesterday had increased overnight and Pierre had needed Max’s help to walk from the bed to the sofa.

“I’m just checking,” Daniel replied, pulling the blanket higher up Pierre’s chest. “I don’t want you to get cold or anything while I’m gone.”

“I’m  _ fine _ ,” Pierre whined. “I’m too exhausted to move. Go and get food for lunch. Max will be back from his Dad’s soon, I will stay here and do nothing.” Max had gone to visit Jos at his apartment to talk about what had happened. Pierre agreed to let Max go on the condition that Max didn’t apologise or ask for forgiveness; it was Jos who was in the wrong, and Pierre felt confident that Jos wouldn’t hurt Max further in the presence of his wife and their 1-year-old son.

“Okay,” Daniel said, finally believing Pierre. He reached down and gently ruffled Pierre’s hair. “Don’t go anywhere.”

Pierre relaxed against the cushions and closed his eyes. He hadn’t slept much overnight, and neither had Max. Pierre wanted to climb inside Max’s head and fight all the negative thoughts and Max was still having trouble reconciling being a good son with being a disgrace to the family. Pierre’s relationship with Jos had always been polite but never as warm as Max’s relationship with Pierre’s Father. Pierre had four brothers - his parents said they always knew it was likely at least one of their sons would end up not wanting a girlfriend. They didn’t care who their children dated as long as they were happy.

Pierre didn’t know how long he’d been dozing but he opened his eyes when he heard the front door click and footsteps approach. Pierre’s eyes narrowed when he saw Jos standing over him.

“Is Max here?” Jos asked politely.

“No,” Pierre replied, reaching for his phone, huffing when Jos grabbed it first, moving it further away than he could reach. “Jos, you can’t be here. Max has gone to your apartment to see you. I want your key.”

Jos perched on the edge of the coffee table and looked Pierre up and down. 

Pierre fidgeted slightly, feeling too exhausted to move much. He tried his best to keep calm; he didn’t want to provoke Jos because he knew he couldn’t defend himself if Jos got violent again. “I want your key,” Pierre said calmly, “and then I want you to go.”

“No.” Jos stood up and grabbed Pierre’s phone, disappearing out of the room.

Pierre tried to push himself up into a sitting position but he didn’t have the strength to lift himself away from the cushions. He bit his lip hard to silence his cry of pain as his arm slipped against the sofa and he sank back down into the cushions.

Jos returned and sat on the coffee table again, an unreadable expression on his face.

“If you hurt me, you’ll never see Max again,” Pierre said, trying to sound braver than he felt. “He’s gone to your apartment to try and fix things. You should go back and see him.”

“He was a good kid until he got involved with you,” Jos said, slowly peeling away the blankets, exposing Pierre to the chill in the apartment because he was only wearing a t-shirt and his underwear.

“What are you doing?” Pierre asked, panic rising in his voice. “You can’t hurt me.”

“You’re pathetic,” Jos said, reaching one hand under Pierre’s legs and the other under his back, lifting him up off the sofa. “Don’t you see what a waste you are?”

“Jos, put me down,” Pierre said, pushing against Jos as best he could. “You can’t hurt me.”

“Stop whining,” Jos said coldly, “I’m not going to hurt you.”

“Then what are you going-” Pierre’s words caught in his throat as Jos carried him into the bathroom. The plug was in the bathtub and the cold water tap was on full. “Jos, please-” Pierre shook his head as Jos stepped across the room and he cried out as Jos dropped him into the bathtub. Freezing cold water splashed over the side of the tub as Pierre sank under the surface, cold water filling his lungs and stinging his eyes. He thrashed about, trying to get his head back above the surface and when he opened his eyes, Jos was gone.

Pierre choked on the cold water, coughing it out of his lungs and he wrapped his hands over the edge of the tub to keep himself from sinking back under. The pain made his vision blur and he used all of his effort to pull himself out of the tub, rolling over the side and collapsing onto the hard floor. 

\---

Daniel turned the key in the front door, frowning when he felt it was already unlocked. He’d definitely locked it before leaving. Assuming Max was already back, Daniel stepped inside the apartment and dropped his shopping bag when he heard Pierre screaming in the bathroom.

“I’m coming!” Daniel shouted as he sprinted through the apartment, grabbing onto the doorframe to stop himself from overshooting. He found Pierre lying on the bathroom floor, his wet clothes clinging to his body and the cold tap still running. Daniel turned off the tap and pulled out the plug before crouching down next to Pierre. “What the hell happened? I told you not to go anywhere.”

“Jos was here,” Pierre said, his teeth chattering. “He threw me in. Will you help me up? I don’t want Max to see me like this.”

“Fucking hell, Pierre, let’s get you out of these clothes.” Daniel pulled Pierre’s t-shirt off over his head, apologising when Pierre cried out in pain and then he helped Pierre out of his shorts, quickly grabbing a towel to cover Pierre up.

“I’m okay,” Pierre insisted as Daniel carried him through to the bedroom, groaning in frustration. “Why is he such a cunt?”

“You’re not okay, you’re shaking,” Daniel said as he gently laid Pierre down on the bed. He draped Pierre’s fluffy dressing gown over him and then pulled the duvet cover over him as well, fetching another towel to wrap around Pierre’s hair to keep his head warm. “We need to get you warmed up.”

“I’m okay,” Pierre said again, and he meant it this time. His breathing had slowed and he felt instantly better once he was under the warm, fluffy covers. He took several slow breaths and concentrated on stopping shivering. It took almost a minute but he eventually stilled, the feeling of cold being replaced with the feeling of pain as all his muscles protested against him.

“I’m going to call Max and get him home,” Daniel said, fishing his phone out of his pocket. He put it on loudspeaker so Pierre could listen to the conversation as well.

“Hey Daniel.”

“Max, where are you?” Daniel asked calmly.

“I’m on my way home. Dad wasn’t even there, so I told his wife what he did and agreed that he’s being unreasonable. I’ll try phoning him.”

“No, don’t phone him,” Daniel said, glancing at Pierre who’d screwed his eyes shut. “Come straight home.”

“Why, what’s wrong?”

“Just come home as soon as you can, mate,” Daniel said, squeezing Pierre’s shoulder. Pierre opened his eyes and Daniel saw tears in them. “We’ll see you soon.” Daniel ended the call and put his phone back in his pocket, using the edge of the towel to pat Pierre’s eyes dry.

“This is going to destroy him,” Pierre said, pushing himself up into a sitting position on the bed. The effort made him breathless for a few moments but he settled again, reaching out and grabbing Daniel’s hand. “Daniel, please, help me keep him safe. We can’t let his Father end him.”

“I’ll do everything I can for both of you,” Daniel said, pulling Pierre into his arms. He gently towel-dried Pierre’s hair and tried his best to comfort Pierre until Max got home. They both knew when Max got back, he’d panic and it was up to them to comfort him and reassure him that Pierre didn’t have any injuries.

\---

“We can’t stay here,” Max said, pacing up and down the bedroom, tears filling his eyes as he watched Daniel rubbing Pierre’s back while Pierre still insisted he was fine. “We have to go somewhere he can’t find us. Oh my God.”

“You could come and stay with me,” Daniel suggested. “I have the space.”

“It’s still too risky,” Max said, clenching and unclenching his hands into fists as he tried to think of a plan. “I can’t risk him coming anywhere near Pierre. It’s too dangerous.”

“Maybe we could stay with Carlos?” Pierre suggested. “He did invite us to stay after the race. Maybe we could go early.”

Max stood still and thought for a moment. Carlos had recently moved house and even Max didn’t know his address. There was no way Jos would be able to find them there. Max pulled his phone out of his pocket to make the call but before his could find Carlos’s number in his address book, his phone lit up with an incoming call from his Father.

“If that’s Jos, don’t answer it,” Daniel warned.

Max ignored Daniel and answered the call, clenching his hand into a fist again. “Dad, what the fuck are you doing?” he asked, choosing English so that Daniel and Pierre could understand everything he said. “No I won’t fucking speak Dutch now,” he snarled, “I’m with Pierre and Daniel.”

Pierre gazed up at Max and shook his head, wanting Max to end the call.

“You knew you wouldn’t hurt him?” Max asked incredulously. “That’s absolute bullshit. You threw him in the bath, Dad, he could have drowned! He could be fucking dead right now and it would be all your fault.” Max held the phone away from his ear as Jos ranted at him. “No,  _ you  _ listen to  _ me _ . You stay away from Pierre, and you stay away from me, okay? You’re not welcome here anymore.”

Max closed his eyes and rubbed his hand over his face, wincing at the residual pain in his bruised cheekbones. “I don’t give a shit about any of that, Dad,” he sighed. “I’m your son, you’re supposed to give a shit about  _ me _ . I don’t want to hear from you again until I get a fucking apology for what you’ve done to me and for what you’ve done to Pierre. He doesn’t deserve  _ any  _ of this.” Max opened his eyes and paced up and down as he listened to Jos shouting at him more. “Wow, fuck you too,  _ Dad _ ” he said, finally ending the call. Max threw his phone at the wall and Pierre flinched as it crashed to the ground.

Max crawled onto the bed and curled up, hiding his face in his hands as he broke down in tears. Pierre asked Daniel to call Carlos and then he tried his best to comfort Max, cuddling over him and whispering to Max about how loved he was and how Pierre was going to look after him and never let anyone hurt him ever again.

“I’ll call Carlos,” Daniel said, leaving the room and closing the door behind him, his heart aching at the sound of Max’s crying.

\---

“This is it, we’re here,” Carlos said as he pulled onto his driveway, parking his bright yellow Clio next to Lando’s. Lando hadn’t officially moved in with him (they’d been dating for less than a year) but he slept over at least a few nights a week when they were both in the country. He had his own toothbrush at Carlos’s house, he just didn’t have his own half of the wardrobe yet.

Daniel had dropped Max and Pierre at the airport that evening and Carlos had prepared a guest room for them. He’d sent Lando out to buy extra pillows and hot water bottles for Pierre, as well as extra blankets. When Lando came home, it was with even soft furnishings to keep ten people warm.

Max unbuckled his seatbelt and climbed out of the car, pulling open the rear door to find Pierre half asleep. Max gently shook Pierre’s shoulder and Pierre stirred; he’d dozed for most of the flight and the car journey from Heathrow to Carlos’s house. Pierre smiled lopsidedly at Max and stayed still as Max reached in and undid his seatbelt.

“Can you walk?” Max asked tentatively, helping Pierre out of the car. He’d refused help at the airport and walking from the plane to Carlos’s car had been painfully slow. “It’s not a problem if you can’t. There’s nobody here to stare at you if you need me to help you.”

Pierre thought for a moment and then wrapped his arms around Max’s shoulders, biting his lip to keep from crying out in pain when Max gripped the back of his thighs and lifted him up off the floor. He screwed his eyes shut and hid his face against Max’s neck as Max carried him across the gravel driveway towards the house.

Lando pulled open the front door, ready to throw himself at Max but he stopped when he saw that Max was carrying Pierre. “I’ll show you straight to the guest room,” he said, pulling the door open wider so Max and Pierre could come inside.

Lando gestured to the stairs and put his hands on Max’s back, following him up the stairs and helping him balance whilst carrying Pierre. “Turn left at the top,” he instructed, “then it’s straight in front of you.”

Max carefully carried Pierre upstairs and headed down the corridor into the guest room. There were four pillows on the bed and a pile of extra pillows and blankets on a chair next to the window. Max gently set Pierre down on the bed and then helped Pierre remove his shoes.

Pierre scooted back on the bed, relaxing into the pillows and he offered Lando the best smile he could manage. “Thank you for letting us come with such a short warning.”

“It’s fine,” Lando said, grabbing a hot water bottle from the nightstand and holding it out to Pierre. “Carlos shared his location on the drive here, so I just made this up for you. I hope it’s warm enough. Max said hot water bottles help?”

Pierre smiled wider and accepted the hot water bottle, cuddling it against his chest. “It’s perfect. Thank you.”

“Lando, can you grab the other suitcase from downstairs?” Carlos asked, appearing in the doorway with Max’s rucksack and suitcase, stepping inside the room as Lando squeezed past him to go downstairs.

Max let Carlos set down his belongings before throwing his arms around him. They hadn’t greeted each other properly at the airport and this was the first chance Max had to show his appreciation. He squeezed Carlos tight before pulling away, holding Carlos’s hands in his. “I don’t know what to say, mate,  _ thank you _ . Thank you for letting us come so quickly.”

“It’s not a problem,” Carlos replied warmly, squeezing Max’s hands. “I hope you’ll feel safe here with me. Please, treat it like your own home. If you need anything, tell me. I think Lando did okay with the blankets and pillows, but if you need anything else, tell me and I’ll sort it.”

Carlos let go of Max’s hands and moved to see Pierre. He reached down and kissed Pierre’s cheek, squeezing his shoulder. “It’s good to have you here, my friend,” he said softly. “Will you tell me if you’re uncomfortable?”

Pierre nodded, letting go of the hot water bottle long enough to squeeze Carlos’s hand before cuddling the hot water bottle again. He sank into the mattress more as Max climbed up next to him.

Lando dragged Pierre’s suitcase into the room and set it down next to Max’s. “We’ve got food downstairs when you’re hungry. There’s a jug of water and two glasses on the table over there. Tell us if you need  _ anything _ , okay?”

“We will,” Max replied. “Thanks so much, you guys. Really.”

“It’s not a problem,” Carlos said again, wrapping his arm around Lando’s shoulder and guiding him out of the room, pulling the door closed behind them.

\---

“I should go and check on Pierre,” Max said, glancing at the clock. He’d been downstairs for over an hour and was curled up on the sofa between Lando and Carlos, having just stuffed his face with a large bowl of pasta.

“I’ll go,” Carlos offered, clambering off the sofa. “You just finally started to relax. Stay here.” Carlos left the living room and found Pierre sitting half way up the stairs, one hand gripping the carpet of the stairs and the other hand fisting the front of his hoodie. His eyes were unfocused even as he looked at Carlos and his breathing was rapid.

Carlos crouched down in front of Pierre and peered up at him. “Talk to me.”

“I can’t breathe,” Pierre gasped, rubbing his chest. “It hurts here. I think I’m having a heart attack.”

Carlos stood up and reached his hands out to Pierre. “Let’s get you downstairs,” he said calmly. “There’s more space there. A staircase is no place for a heart attack, is it?”

“No,” Pierre replied, shaking his head. He let Carlos pull him to his feet and he followed Carlos into the living room, his socks slippery on the hard wooden flooring. Max instantly jumped off the sofa and helped Pierre down onto it.

“I’m okay,” Pierre insisted, collapsing into Max’s arms. He didn’t fight Max as Max lifted his legs up onto the sofa as well. Carlos had a horse-shaped sofa with enough space to seat eight people. Pierre sat in one corner, his back against the cushions and his legs straight out in front of him.

“You’re not okay,” Max retorted, lifting Pierre’s wrist and checking his pulse. “This is too fast for me to count, Pierre. Are you having a panic attack?”

Pierre shook his head, screwing his eyes shut. “My chest-” he sighed, too exhausted to even finish his sentence.

Lando climbed off the sofa and sought reassurance from Carlos. It would need more than a hot water bottle and cushion to make Pierre feel better. Lando didn’t understand what was happening; Max looked panicked and Lando trusted Carlos to be the calm one in the room.

Carlos reached down and touched Pierre’s shoulder, glancing at Max. “We’re going to call an ambulance,” he said calmly, dragging Lando out of the room when Max nodded.

“What’s wrong with him?” Lando asked, fear in his voice as he followed Carlos into the kitchen. “Is he okay?”

“I don’t know what’s wrong,” Carlos snapped, grabbing the landline phone and holding it out to Lando. “Can you call an ambulance? They’ll understand you better than me.”

Lando nodded, taking a big breath to calm himself. “What do I tell them?”

“Tell them what we know,” Carlos said, placing his hands on Lando’s shoulders to reassure him. “He’s 24. He’s having trouble breathing. He has big chest pains.”

Lando nodded again, dialling 999 with trembling fingers. He held the phone to his ear and kept his eyes locked on Carlos’s as he tried his best to speak clearly. “Ambulance please,” he said, biting his lip while the operator connected him. Lando tried his best to answer the operator’s questions about what was going on and when it was confirmed that an ambulance was on its way, Lando thanked the operator and ended the call.

“You did so great,” Carlos said, kissing Lando’s forehead. “We’re going to get help for Pierre.”

“I feel sick,” Lando replied, ducking out of Carlos’s arms and putting the phone back in its cradle. “I want to help.”

“Go outside and wait for the ambulance,” Carlos suggested. “Help them find the right house, and when they get here, bring them in to Pierre. I need you to be calm, Lando. You’re doing great but I need you to carry on. The best way to help Pierre right now is to be calm, like everything is fine.”

Lando nodded and gave Carlos a quick cuddle. “I’ll be calm,” he said, kissing Carlos before heading out to the hallway, pulling on his shoes, and leaving the house to stand at the end of the driveway.

Carlos returned to the living room where Max was sitting next to Pierre, holding his hand. Pierre had his other arm folded over his face, hiding his eyes. His chest was heaving with his rapid, shallow breaths and he kept fidgeting his legs. Pierre murmured something mostly incoherent, though Carlos could make out the words “don’t want” and “hospital.”

“You’re going to be okay,” Max said, trying to convince himself as well as Pierre that things would turn out alright. “You’re so safe here, Pierre. We’re going to help you.”

Pierre tugged his hand free from Max’s grip and rolled onto his side away from Max, curling up as pain seared in his chest. He clawed at the front of his hoodie, trying to get a deep breath into his lungs but every time he took more than just a shallow breath, it made the pain worse and forced him to keep his breathing small. He didn’t have words in any language to tell Max how he felt and he fidgeted again, kicking the arm of the sofa.

Carlos dragged Max away from Pierre when Lando came into the room with two paramedics. The first was a tall guy who clearly spent a lot of time in the gym; he was almost a foot taller than Lando. His partner was a blonde woman the same size as Lando. Lando gestured at Pierre and then took a big step backwards, pressing himself against the wall to try to keep out of the way.

“Come on,” Carlos soothed, pulling Max backwards when Max tried to fight him and get closer to Pierre. “Give them space to do their work.”

“What’s your name?” the taller paramedic asked, kneeling down next to the sofa and touching Pierre’s arm.

“Pierre.”

“Ah, you’re French? Je m’appelle Robin. Elle s’appelle Ellie,” he said, pointing at his partner. “That’s as much French as I know, I’m sorry. Do you speak much English, or do I need to find a translator?”

“He speaks English  _ fine _ ,” Max snapped, breaking free from Carlos’s grip and taking a small step closer. He didn’t trust anyone he didn’t know with Pierre.

“Yeah, I understand you,” Pierre said, still curled up on his side.

“That’s great, thank you,” Robin replied, unzipping his kit bag. “Can I examine you? Tell me what’s wrong.”

“I don’t want to be a fuss,” Pierre murmured, curling up tighter.

“Hey, you’re no fuss at all,” Robin replied warmly. “We just need to take a look at you, that’s all. We got a call about a young man with chest pains and trouble breathing, and your friends here all look pretty worried. Will you let me examine you?”

Pierre nodded and rolled onto his back, opening his eyes and looking at Robin. “The pain is worst in my chest,” he explained, dragging his fingers over his heart. “Right here. It goes around the back and it hurts more when I take a big breath.” His breathing had slowed slightly because his muscles were too worn out to keep the hyperventilating going. Every time Pierre blinked, he felt his eyes close for a little longer.

“Are you on any medication? Any pre-existing conditions?”

Pierre nodded again. “Max, can you-”

“Lando, there’s a big red wash bag in Pierre’s suitcase,” Max said, turning to Lando. “Could you get it please?” He waited until Lando disappeared out of the room before turning his attention back to Robin. “His official diagnosis is Fibromyalgia, but only because they couldn’t find anything else wrong. He has Anxiety too, he gets panic attacks.”

“Have you had a busy day?”

“We flew in from Monaco this evening,” Max explained, “and already this morning, he was too exhausted to move much. Yesterday was really stressful and today someone threw him in a bathtub full of cold water.” Max clenched and unclenched his hands into fists but didn’t fight when he felt Carlos’s hand on his shoulder.

“That’s a cruel thing to do,” Robin said, pulling kit out of his bag. “Why would someone do that?”

“It’s a long story,” Max replied defensively, letting out a whimper as Pierre cried out in pain, curling towards Robin this time as he balled himself back up, French profanities escaping his lips.

“Pierre, I need to do a trace of your heart,” Robin explained, showing Pierre the leads he had plugged into an ECG machine. “We need to take your top off, please.”

Lando came back into the room clutching Pierre’s bag of medicine and Ellie accepted it from him, placing it on the dining table and unzipping it. She gestured for Lando to sit down at the table and he complied, nervously folding his hands in his lap as he waited for any further instructions on how he could help.

“Max, come and sit down,” Carlos said quietly, tugging on Max’s hand. “We need to be calm for Pierre.” He guided Max over to the dining table and sat him down next to Lando.

When Pierre’s hoodie and t-shirt were off, he slumped back against the back of the sofa and watched helplessly as Robin stuck 10 different-coloured leads to him; six across his chest, one below either collar bone, and one above each hip. “Do you believe me that I’m in pain?” he asked tentatively.

“Of course I do,” Robin replied. “Let’s see what this trace says first before we decide what to do next.” Over the next half an hour he carried out as many diagnostic tests as he could while Ellie worked with Lando to get everyone else a drink. Robin chatted to Pierre to distract him and they talked about how Pierre knew everyone else in the room and how long it had been since his diagnosis.

“I don’t want to go to hospital,” Pierre said again, cuddling a fresh hot water bottle. Robin gave him some of the more heavy duty painkillers he had and though Pierre didn’t realise it, Robin was waiting to see if he settled.

“I don’t think you need to,” Robin said, moving to sit up on the sofa next to Pierre as he filled out paperwork on his clipboard. “I’m satisfied there’s nothing wrong with you that needs urgent hospital treatment. I think these painkillers have helped. You seem a lot more alert than when we first got here.”

“So what’s wrong with me then?”

“Realistically, I think it’s a flare up in your fibromyalgia symptoms,” Robin explained. “There are all sorts of triggers for a flare, but stress and pushing yourself too much are really common ones. From what I understand, it’s been a pretty stressful few days for you, is that fair to say?”

Pierre nodded, fidgeting on the sofa a little.

“What you need to do now is  _ rest _ ,” Robin explained, glancing up at the dining table to include the others in the conversation. “No overdoing it. No stress. No getting on a plane. No pretending you’re okay when you’re not. No worrying about anything. I know that probably sounds impossible, but it’s what you need right now.”

Max stood up from the table and perched on the back of the sofa, reaching his hand down and stroking Pierre’s hair. “I know this past couple of days, I’ve felt like absolute shit, and I’m not even sick like you.”

“I’m okay, Max,” Pierre said, peering up at Max.

“No you’re not,” Max replied, frustrated. “You’re not even listening to Robin, are you? You need to stop worrying about everyone else and start concentrating on yourself. You’re allowed to be selfish, Pierre, you’re sick, for fuck’s sake. Your body is telling you it can’t go on like this.”

Pierre sighed and looked back at Robin. “So, what, I’m supposed to just stay in bed?”

“Pretty much, yes,” Robin replied. “Maybe sit in the garden or take a  _ gentle  _ walk if you need to get out of the house for some fresh air. Nothing more taxing. Let your friends here look after you.”

“I’m not good at having help,” Pierre admitted, closing his eyes. He still wasn’t used to being unwell; he still felt like he was a professional athlete on a short sabbatical. 

“This sounds like a great opportunity to practice then,” Robin suggested, filling in the last of his paperwork. He zipped up his kit bag and stood up. “Please try and get some rest. If you need us again for anything, if the pain gets too bad or your friends get too worried, please call us out again.”

Max and Pierre thanked Robin and Ellie and Lando and Carlos showed them to the door. When Lando confirmed with them that Pierre wasn’t going to die, Robin repeated his suggestion to call 999 again if they were worried.

Carlos hugged Lando and kissed his face before leading him back into the living room. Max was curled up on the sofa now, Pierre’s head and shoulders in his lap. Lando knelt down on the floor in front of them and gently rubbed Pierre’s shoulder. “You’re safe here, Pierre,” he said warmly. “Carlos and I, we’re going to take good care of you and Max. I don’t know what to do about Jos or anything like that, but I can bring you hot water bottles and food and make sure you drink enough and have enough cushions.”

“Merci,” Pierre replied, struggling to keep his eyes open. His breathing was slow now, his heart rate had settled, and whilst his chest was still uncomfortable it was a lot less painful than it had been earlier that night. He sighed quietly and gave up his fight with consciousness, falling asleep almost instantly in Max’s arms. 


	13. "You are so loved"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sunday night of the British GP. Daniel organises a safe space for everyone to share their feelings. Pierre gets lots of cuddles.

“Max, wait,” Daniel called after Max, chasing him into the kitchen of Carlos’s house. It was Sunday night after the race and Daniel and Charles were visiting. The six of them had been in a whatsapp group ever since Max and Pierre left Monaco, sharing updates on their situation and keeping Pierre up to date with what was happening while they were all at the track. Pierre had spent the week feeling very foggy, struggling especially with his short term memory. 

Lando’s Mother Cisca had stayed with Pierre during the days while everyone else was at the track. Lando’s parents had been using his apartment as a base for the week and his Father dropped Cisca off on his way up to Silverstone. Cisca promised she was happier watching Lando drive on TV rather than in person, and whilst Pierre was hesitant at first, he found Cisca great company. They chatted in French and she didn’t smother him like his own parents did.

“I can’t,” Max hissed, trying to keep his voice quiet even though he wanted to scream. He pressed his hands against the worktop and dropped his head to his chest, blinking away his tears. “I know I’m a horrible person for saying it, but I don’t want Charles here. I hate seeing him with Pierre.”

“Mate, you need to get over this,” Daniel said, rubbing Max’s back. “He’s Pierre’s best friend. Don’t think about what happened on track today.”

“I can’t help it,” Max replied. “He shoved me off the track and we spent half an hour shouting at each other in the Stewards’ office, and now I’m supposed to just sit here all night and watch him cuddle my boyfriend? It’s not fucking  _ fair _ , Daniel. Am I supposed to be okay with this? He’s such an arsehole.”

“If you’re going to bitch about me, can you do it more quietly?” Charles said from the doorway, folding his arms over his chest.

Max’s head shot up and he glared at Charles, feeling embarrassed. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “You weren’t supposed to hear that.”

“Well, I did,” Charles said softly, “and I don’t like being called an arsehole when I haven’t done anything wrong.”

Max frowned more, feeling guilty. Charles seemed upset rather than angry and Max hated that he was the one who’d made him feel that way. “I’m sorry I called you an arsehole,” he said, turning to face Charles properly.

“You two need to talk this out,” Daniel said, jumping up and sitting on the worktop, ready to separate them if they started fighting. “Tell each other how you really feel.”

“I don’t like it when you shut me out,” Charles said, unfolding his arms and stuffing his hands in his pockets instead, trying to seem less defensive. “I’m his best friend. I need to stay a part of his life. I need you to tell me what’s going on with him when he can’t tell me himself.”

“I get jealous when you cuddle him,” Max said, his voice wavering. Now that he’d vocalised it, it sounded stupid. There was no reason to be jealous of Charles and Pierre; their relationship had never been anything other than platonic, they felt more like brothers than anything else. “I hate that I can’t soothe him like you can when you cuddle him and whisper to him in French. It’s like you two communicate in your own language that I’m shut out of.”

“All I  _ can  _ do is talk French to him,” Charles said, taking a sharp breath in as he tried not to cry as well. “He’s not well and I can’t stand seeing him like this. I can’t take him to a better Doctor or pay for better treatment, and seeing him always in pain like this reminds me of-” he trailed off, frowning as he searched for the right way to end his sentence “-it reminds me of someone who I  _ can’t  _ help anymore, and if I can help Pierre by just cuddling him and telling him that he’s loved, then I never ever want to fucking let go of him.” Charles choked out his words, bursting into tears.

Before Daniel had a chance to climb off the worktop, Max launched himself at Charles. He wrapped his arms around his shoulders and held him close. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered, supporting Charles’s weight as Charles fell against him.

“I’m nothing to be jealous of,” Charles cried, gripping the back of Max’s t-shirt. “I’m just someone who’s doing a terrible job of helping his best friend. I wish I could take his pain away.”

Daniel slid off the worktop and headed out of the room, going into the living room and reaching for Pierre’s hand. “I need you in the kitchen.”

Pierre wordlessly stood up from the sofa with Daniel’s help and shuffled after him into the kitchen where he found Max and Charles stood in each other’s arms. “Why are you both crying?” he asked tentatively.

“No reason,” Charles said, pulling away and rubbing furiously at his face to make his tears go away. “Sorry.”

“Max?” Pierre questioned. “What’s going on?”

Max shrugged, not wanting to say the wrong thing. Charles’s feelings weren’t his to share and Max didn’t want to betray the tiny amount of trust he’d just built. “We’re okay,” he said, reassuring. “It was just a long day, you know? Being in with the Stewards, and now being here. We’re both exhausted.”

Pierre frowned and looked at Charles. “Is this true?”

Charles nodded, rubbing his face again. “Yeah. Just tired.”

Pierre looked suspiciously between Charles and Max and couldn’t help but grin when he heard Lando shouting in the living room. “ _ I’m not ordering fucking seafood!”  _ He rolled his eyes and excused himself, heading out of the kitchen. 

Max ushered Charles out after Pierre and then turned back to face Daniel. “Fucking hell,” he sighed, crossing the kitchen and hugging Daniel. “Am I such a shitty person that I didn’t stop to think how Charles might feel?”

“No, you’re not a shitty person,” Daniel said, squeezing Max tight. “There’s just a lot of things going on in your world. You’re looking like you’re on for your best season ever this year. Your boyfriend just got diagnosed with a chronic illness. You’ve just told the whole world you’re gay. Your Dad is being a dick. There must be a lot going on in that tiny head of yours.”

“Too much,” Max laughed, pulling away and drying his eyes on the sleeve of his t-shirt. 

“You’re just as bad as Pierre,” Daniel pointed out, straightening Max’s t-shirt for him. “You need to get better at accepting help emotionally. You’ve got a great support network, you need to use us. Lean on us a little. We can take it.”

“We should go and check Carlos and Lando haven’t killed each other,” Max said, finally starting to relax. He’d been on edge all week and hadn’t had much downtime. 

\---

The majority vote for that night’s take-away dinner was Japanese food. Lando threw a hissy fit but soon calmed down when Carlos told him he could have chicken curry instead. All six of them sat on the sofa to eat. Lando sat on the end of the sofa with his feet in the coffee table, with Carlos sitting cross-legged in the corner of the sofa. Charles sat along the back of the sofa, close enough to help Pierre with his food. Pierre sat in the corner as well, his legs straight out in front of him across Max’s lap, and Daniel sat on the end of the sofa.

“Okay,” Daniel said, shovelling rice into his mouth. “This has been a crazy week for everyone. I want to know your highest point, and your lowest point. Tell me the best bit and the worst bit of this week. And no judging. If Max’s low point was when Charles hit him, nobody gets to complain about that. Nobody gets to tell anyone they’re wrong about how they feel, and nobody gets to feel like shit because of something someone says. Lando, you start.”

Lando thought for a moment, chewing on a chunk of chicken breast. “The best thing about this week was getting all those points in the race. It was good to race at home. It’s good to sleep in my own bed - well,  _ Carlos’s  _ bed - between sessions.” Lando prodded his curry, mixing the rice and the sauce together. “The lowest point was probably calling the ambulance for Pierre. I’ve never called an ambulance before. I was scared I’d screw it up or something.” Lando ate a tiny piece of rice and glanced up at Pierre. “I’m glad I didn’t. I’m glad I got you help.”

“You did a great job,” Pierre replied, offering Lando the best smile he could manage. “I hope I didn’t scare you too much.”

Lando shook his head and turned to Carlos. “What was your best thing and worst thing this week?”

“Worst thing was definitely starting from the pit lane,” Carlos said. “Crashing in Q3 was painful, and it was completely my own fault. It was awful, the mechanics having to break the curfew to fix all the damage I caused, but then the high point was getting points today. Eighth isn’t the best result I’ve ever had, but it’s a lot better than twentieth!”

“How about you, Charles?” Daniel asked curiously.

“The high point was definitely getting pole,” Charles replied, swallowing down a piece of tuna. “The low point was probably crashing into Max. I didn’t do anything differently to the lap before but my brakes were done. I didn’t  _ mean  _ to hit you, and I’m sorry. You should have been on the podium today.”

“Thanks,” Max murmured. He didn’t want to say ‘it’s okay’ when it wasn’t okay, but he appreciated Charles’s apology.

“These things happen,” Daniel said sympathetically, “and you’re now part of an elite club of people who’ve smashed Max’s rear end in. Me in Baku, Seb in Silverstone last year, you in Silverstone this year, and Pierre.”

Pierre choked on his spoon of rice and spat it back out into his bowl. “Daniel!” he laughed, horrified. 

“It’s true, isn’t it?” Daniel teased. “Or are you a gentle lover?”

“Don’t answer that,” Max grinned, squeezing Pierre’s leg. “Let’s change the subject. Tell us your high and low of this week.”

Pierre thought for a moment before answering. “Honestly, the high was probably hanging out with Lando’s Mother. We watched a lot of Bake Off, and she was good company. Lando, you should have seen her jumping up and down at the end of the race.”

Lando smiled, blushing slightly. “I’m glad it wasn’t weird for her to be her with you.”

“No, it was really good,” Pierre replied. “She was really helpful, and she didn’t treat me like I’m made of glass.”

“I’ll tell her,” Lando said, scraping the last of his rice out of his bowl. “She’ll probably offer you to move in with her. She says she’s lonely with no sons in the house anymore.”

“Just tell me what I can get her as a gift to say thank you for being so kind to me.”

“What was your low point?” Daniel asked, getting a sense that Pierre was trying to avoid talking about it.

Pierre sighed, chewing on his lip. “I guess the lowest point for me this week was realising that I’m no longer capable of what I used to be capable of; realising that I need more help than I think. It’s a long learning process, I think, trying to work out what my limitations are now. There’s so many things I still want to do.”

“We’ll find a way to do them,” Max said, squeezing Pierre’s leg again. “Whatever you want to do, we’ll find a way to make it happen. We all want to support you, Pierre, we all want to do whatever we can to help you.”

“And I really appreciate it,” Pierre replied, making eye contact with everyone in the room. “You’re the best support network anyone could ever have. You never hesitate or question me, and I love all of you.”

“You’re going to make me cry,” Lando laughed, his eyes glassy. “Stop being so nice. Say something mean.”

“You’re my favourite arsehole,” Pierre replied, grinning. “Better?”

“Much.”

Pierre scoffed and handed his empty bowl to Charles to reach forward and put on the coffee table, thanking him quietly. Pierre nudged Max with his foot. “Tell us your best thing and worst thing.”

Max took a slow breath. “Honestly, I hated nearly everything about this week,” he said, the words falling out of his mouth. “I was so excited to go public about our relationship and I’m so grateful of how supportive everyone was, and then my Dad fucking ruined it by being a dick. I don’t even care that he hit me, I only care about what he did to Pierre. He threatened Pierre and he tried to scare him and I’m so  _ angry  _ about it because he’s my Dad and he’s not supposed to be like that. He never had a problem with us before we went public so if the only difference is now everyone knows his son is gay, then it’s his fucking problem and I don’t want to be a part of it.

“And I’m angry at all the media this week. Nobody wanted to talk to me about driving, they just wanted to talk to me about my sexuality, which I knew would happen but I wish they’d stop talking about it like it’s  _ new _ , like I haven’t been this way my whole life. I’ve always been a gay racing driver. Every race I’ve ever driven, I’ve done it whilst being gay. It’s draining. I want everyone to fuck off. I have no regrets about going public, but I’m definitely looking forward to when people stop asking me about it. I thought getting a good result would shut people up, but even that didn’t happen and I  _ know  _ it’s not Charles’s fault and I  _ know  _ I sound really ungrateful, but you want us to be honest, right?”

“Right,” Daniel replied. “Total honesty. No judgement. You’re allowed to be upset about what happened in the race.”

“I’m not even upset about it,” Max said, shrugging. “Just tired and pissed off. I want to go  _ home _ . I want to sleep in  _ my _ bed, with  _ my _ boyfriend, and  _ my  _ things, and I’m pissed off that I can’t.”

Everyone sat in silence until Carlos spoke up. “So what was the high point?” he asked, smiling when Max burst out laughing.

“The high point was being here with all you guys,” Max replied. “The way you all stepped up and looked after us, Pierre especially, this week, I won’t ever forget that.”

Lando put his bowl down on the coffee table and stepped around it, launching himself at Max. He straddled Max’s lap and cuddled him tightly. “We just want you guys to be safe,” he said. 

“We are safe,” Max replied, hugging Lando back. “We feel safe here. This week I feel like we’ve been so sheltered from the world. We just need to go back to our own home. We can’t stay here forever.”

“I don’t know why you even like Monaco,” Lando teased, letting go of Max and returning to his spot on the sofa next to Carlos. “It’s boring there.”

“Just because your two favourite things are sim racing and mini golf, doesn’t mean that’s all there is to do in the world!” Charles protested. “I like Monaco.”

“You’re  _ from  _ Monaco. You’re biased.”

“Hey kiddies, don’t fight,” Daniel laughed. “Don’t make me separate you. Do you want to hear my high and low of the week?”

“Yes please,” Pierre said, elbowing Charles to get him to stop bickering with Lando.

“The low point was definitely dropping you two off at the airport,” Daniel explained, “I know it was what you needed but I wish there was a way I could have kept you safe in Monaco. The high point was definitely this evening. The six of us should hang out more often. It’s good to see everyone together, even see Max and Charles getting along. We should do it more.”

\---

“You are so loved,” Charles whispered, kissing the top of Pierre’s head. It was nearly one o’clock in the morning and the six of them were still curled up on the sofa. Lando had covered everyone in blankets and Carlos had put on Netflix. They were both asleep now, as was Daniel. Charles couldn’t tell if Max was awake or not, but he suspected from the way he was sprawled across Daniel’s lap, he was asleep. Still, he spoke in English just in case Max was awake, not wanting Max to feel shut out or worried about what Charles was saying to Pierre.

“I want to believe it,” Pierre replied, fidgeting his head against Charle’s chest. “I’m trying to believe it.”

“It’s true,” Charles said, gently rubbing his hand up and down Pierre’s back. “Everyone in this room loves you, Pierre, we will fight anyone for you. If we all work together, we could probably fight  _ everyone  _ for you.”

“I don’t need any fights,” Pierre replied, closing his eyes. “I need patience.”

“You’ve got it, I promise,” Charles said, kissing the top of Pierre’s head again. “We will support you, whatever you need, and we will love you, whatever you do. And that is true, even if you cannot believe it yet. We love you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact that I couldn't work into the fic anywhere - Carlos and Lando love watching Bake Off. Carlos's favourite contestant in the 2019 series was Henry because Carlos's type is English brunettes with cute accents. He wishes Lando would dress better. Lando refuses to wear a tie every day. Carlos lost it when Henry was eliminated.


	14. "I'm sorry I can't stay here all night with you."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hungary weekend. Pierre argues with Alex and Max tries to keep everything together.

“I don’t get it,” Alex said, setting his empty glass back on the table. He’d joined Pierre for lunch in the Energy Station in Hungary and had enjoyed catching up with him. “You look fine. How can you be in pain all the time?”

“What does pain look like, Alex?” Pierre asked coldly, shifting in his seat. He’d spent most of Friday in the Energy Station trying to avoid the media, but he was starting to get cabin fever and was sick of people telling him he was fine and that he’d be back racing soon. He wanted to scream at everyone who told him to keep his chin up.

“I don’t know,” Alex shrugged. “I never really thought about it. Yoga’s supposed to help, isn’t it?”

“Just shut the fuck up,” Pierre snapped, raising his voice more than he meant to. 

“Jesus, what’s wrong with you?” Alex hissed, standing up from the table. He grabbed his tray and kicked his chair under the table. “I miss the old Pierre. When’s  _ he _ coming back?”

Pierre opened his mouth to respond to Alex but his words caught in his throat. He stood up from the table too and shoved his chair underneath, walking unsteadily towards the door of the Energy Station. He needed some fresh air. 

Stepping outside into the paddock, Pierre was hit with the scorching Hungarian weather. The sun burned his eyes and he felt dizzy. Stumbling forward, he felt someone catch him and he turned around to find Pyry standing in front of him, his arms around Pierre’s back to keep him upright.

“It’s Pyry, you’re okay,” Pyry said gently, holding Pierre close. “You’re okay, Pierre, I’ve got you. I’m here.”

Pierre groaned and rested his head on Pyry’s shoulder, his arms dropping to his sides. “I can’t-”

“-yes you can,” Pyry said warmly. “Come on.” He guided Pierre back inside the Energy Station and sat him down at the first table by the door. “You’re okay. Tell me where it hurts most.”

“My neck,” Pierre replied, reaching his hand up and squeezing his right trap muscle. Hushed French curse words fell out of his lips and he closed his eyes, wincing when he felt Pyry’s hand on his neck.

“Come on, let’s go somewhere private,” Pyry said, pulling Pierre to his feet. He guided him over to the stairs and put his hands on Pierre’s hips as he pushed him up the steps towards Max’s driver room. Pierre gripped the handrail to help keep himself upright and collapsed again once they were inside. Pyry caught him again and helped him sit on the massage table.

“Are you sure you have time to help me?” Pierre asked as Pyry pulled off his baseball cap and placed it on the table. Pierre whimpered in pain as Pyry pulled his t-shirt off over his head, neatly folding it next to the cap.

“I have time,” Pyry said, moving to stand behind Pierre. “My driver is at lunch, your boyfriend is in a meeting, I can focus on you for twenty minutes. I can see the knots in your muscles from here. Do you want to lie down?”

“No,” Pierre replied, gently folding his hands in his lap. “I prefer to sit.”

“I’m sorry if I hurt you,” Pyry apologised, wrapping one arm around the front of Pierre’s shoulders while he kneaded his fingers over Pierre’s shoulder blade. He hesitated when Pierre cried out in pain, his hands flying up to grab at Pyry’s arm, but he gave Pierre a few moments to settle before he continued.

Pierre bit his lip hard and tried his best to relax. The more he sat still, the better chance Pyry had with his muscles and it didn’t take long before he started to feel less stiff. When Pyry was done, Pierre rolled his shoulders and felt the toxins drain away. He shivered and pulled his t-shirt back over his head with ease.

“How have you been doing?” Pyry asked, moving to stand in front of Pierre. “I know I’ve been busy with work these days, but I still think about you.”

“I’m still trying to understand this thing,” Pierre replied, smoothing his hair down against his head before putting his cap back on. “It feels like a moving target, like I’m playing a game and every day the rules keep changing. Some days I can go for a jog, other days it hurts to walk. I don’t know why.”

“And are you being kind to yourself, or are you beating yourself up?” Pyry asked, knowing Pierre had a long history of negative self-talk.

“I’m trying to be kind,” Pierre replied, “I don’t know how well it’s working, but I’m trying. I miss you, Pyry.”

“I miss you too.”

Pierre reached out and gave Pyry a fist bump, smiling when the door opened and Max came in. Max looked confused and he hesitated by the door. “Am I interrupting…?”

“No, it’s fine, I was just leaving,” Pyry replied politely. “I’ll see you later.” He fist-bumped Pierre again and then left the room, closing the door behind him.

Max waited until Pyry had left and then crossed the room, pressing his hands into the massage table either side of Pierre’s hips and tipping his head to the side, kissing Pierre warmly. “Sorry I missed you at lunch,” he said, grinning when Pierre’s eyelashes tickled his cheeks. He kissed Pierre again before pulling away, taking Pierre’s hands in his. “Alex said you’re grumpy.”

“Alex can go and fuck himself,” Pierre replied, squeezing Max’s hands. “Asshole.”

“Do I need to go and fight him?” Max asked, concerned. “Did he say something nasty to you?”

Pierre sighed and pulled Max closer for another kiss. “No, he’s just dumb and I don’t want to educate him,” he replied, tilting his head to the side so Max could kiss his neck. The warm tickling he felt from Max’s kisses distracted him from his pain for a few moments and his eyes fluttered closed.

“You can stay here all afternoon if you want,” Max said, nibbling at Pierre’s ear before pulling away again. “But I’d love to see you in the garage. Would that be comfortable for you?”

“I don’t think I can stand for the whole of second practice,” Pierre said, frowning underneath the brim of his cap.

“We’ll find you somewhere to sit,” Max replied quickly. “You can sit on the workbench behind my car. Please? I’d really love to have you close by. Only if you feel comfortable though. We’ll get you a headset so you can listen to my radio. Whatever you need to be comfortable.”

“I want to,” Pierre said, smiling up at Max. “I could sit at the back of your garage and listen to your radio. I’d like that.”

\---

Max turned the car off at the end of the session and climbed out, careful not to kick or trip over any of the cooling equipment his team had crammed into the sidepods. He pulled his gloves off first, freeing up his fingers to undo the clasp on his helmet. He pulled his helmet and HANS device off in one movement, ripping his balaclava off and stuffing it inside. He handed everything to his physio with a “Thanks, Jake” and then gathered around a laptop with his engineers for a preliminary debrief.

It was almost fifteen minutes after the session before Max made it to the back of his car to see Pierre. He unzipped his race suit and let it hang around his waist. Stepping to the back of the garage, he could see that Pierre was still wearing his headset, and he couldn’t quite make out Pierre’s eyes through his mirrored sunglasses. “You okay, sweet?” he asked tentatively.

“No.”

Max climbed up and sat on the bench next to Pierre, letting his legs dangle over the side of the toolbox. He knew better than to grab Pierre and pull him into a hug; as much as he wanted to do that, experience told him it would only cause Pierre more pain. Max carefully glanced Pierre up and down and saw that he was breathing like he was in pain, not that he was upset. “Tell me what you need,” he urged quietly.

Pierre reached up and pulled his headset off, holding it in his lap and stroking his fingers over the strap. “I don’t know,” he replied, keeping his voice low so that nobody would overhear them. Whilst everyone knew that Pierre wasn’t racing anymore, nobody knew why. The only thing that Red Bull management had talked about was an ‘ongoing health issue.’ Pierre wasn’t comfortable sharing anything further.

“It’s okay, we’ll figure it out,” Max said, reaching his hand across and gently placing it on Pierre’s thigh. Pierre tended to get overwhelmed with decision paralysis sometimes, so Max gave him options to choose from. “Do you want to stay here, go to my room, or go back to the hotel?”

“Will I be in the way in your room?”

“Not even a little bit,” Max replied, rubbing Pierre’s thigh. “You can stay there for the rest of the day if you want. I’ve just got meetings and the driver’s briefing. Hopefully I won’t be finished too late, but you can definitely stay in my room, or later we can find you a lift back to the hotel. Do you think you can walk?”

“I don’t know,” Pierre replied, his breath hitching as another wave of pain seared through him.

“It’s okay,” Max said calmly, rubbing Pierre’s leg again. “We’ll figure it out.” Max looked around the garage and saw his mechanics busily working on his car. There was a small group of engineers still huddled around a laptop, and Max’s physio was busying himself rearranging drinks bottles. Max called to him.

“Hey, what’s up?” Jake asked, approaching Max and Pierre. A former rugby player, he was easily big enough to block their view of the rest of the garage.

“We need your help,” Max said, ushering Jake in closer. He looked to Pierre for permission to share his health issues and when Pierre nodded, Max turned back to Jake. “Pierre has a health condition that means he’s always in pain,” he explained. “I need you to help me get him up to my room so he can rest, but I cannot explain how important it is that we are  _ discreet _ . We can’t have the whole world know about this.”

“Of course, mate, I understand,” Jake replied. “Let’s get you off the bench, Pierre, shall we? Shuffle forward for me.” Jake took a step back and Pierre pressed his hands against the worktop, shuffling forward until his hips were by the edge. Jake reached his arms around Pierre’s back and gently lifted him up, setting him down on the floor as gently as he could because he knew the last thing someone in pain needed was more pain shooting up through their ankles from jumping onto concrete. Jake let Pierre go slowly, ready to catch him if his legs gave out.

“Thank you,” Pierre said, rolling his shoulders because they were already stiff again. “I think I can walk.”

“That’s good,” Max said, reaching for Pierre’s hand and lacing their fingers together. “You can hold my hand. People will think it’s sweet or something, I don’t know. Jake, will you walk with us?”

The three of them left the garage and walked slowly across the paddock to the Energy Station. The sun made Pierre feel like he was on fire and he was grateful for the cool temperature inside the Energy Station. He hesitated on the second step of the staircase but moved again when he felt Jake’s hand on the small of his back. Max was in front of him, walking up the stairs backwards. He had a worried look on his face and Pierre didn’t want to disappoint him by failing to make it up the stairs.

When they got to the top, Pierre’s heart rate peaked and the edges of his vision started to turn black. He stood what he thought was still, but in reality sank backwards into Jake’s arms. The next few moments were a blur but he felt weightless until he realised he was sitting on the sofa in Max’s room. Max had taken his cap and sunglasses off and was trying to convince him to drink from a bottle of water.

“Are you  _ sure  _ he doesn’t need to go to the medical centre?” Jake asked, standing over them with his arms folded across his chest.

“No, he’s fine,” Max insisted. “Well, he’s not  _ fine _ , but this isn’t unusual for him. As long as he can still breathe and talk, and he knows where he is, he doesn’t need a Doctor. They won’t do anything anyway.”

“I’m okay,” Pierre said, finding his voice. He took the bottle from Max and held it in both hands as he took several slow sips before holding the bottle down in his lap. “I’m sorry if I scared you.”

“It’s okay,” Jake replied, crouching down in front of Pierre. “I just want to make sure you’re okay, that’s all. Is there anything I can do to help? Is there anything you need?”

“Just rest,” Pierre replied, resting his head against the back of the sofa. “I just need to sit still, close my eyes, and rest.”

“Can you cover for me for a few minutes?” Max asked. “If anyone comes looking for me, tell them I’m sick, or having a shit, or something?”

“Sure, of course,” Jake replied, standing up. “I’ll stall as long as I can for you. If you need anything, Pierre, just grab me.” 

Max watched Jake leave the room and then he turned back to Pierre. Reaching out, he smoothed Pierre’s hair away from his face. Pierre had lost his grip on the bottle of water and Max wasn’t sure if he was already asleep. He leant across and gently kissed Pierre’s cheek. “I love you,” he whispered. “I’m sorry I can’t stay here all night with you.”

“It’s okay,” Pierre replied, forcing his eyes open for a second before they fluttered closed again. “You have meetings. You have to find out how to catch Charles.”

Max grinned and kissed Pierre again. “Exactly,” he beamed. “Can’t have that asshole be P1 tomorrow as well.”

\---

“Can I sit here?” Alex asked, looking at the empty seat opposite Pierre at his breakfast table in the Energy Station. It was Sunday morning now and Pierre had spent all of Saturday in bed. Alex had a tray of breakfast with him and only sat down when Pierre nodded.

Alex shovelled scrambled eggs into his mouth as he watched Pierre stir his granola but not eat it. Alex frowned, shifting in his seat. “I wanted to apologise,” he said, hoping he sounded as sincere as he felt. “I think what I said on Friday probably sounded pretty horrible, and I’m sorry for that. I saw you with Max and Jake on Friday going up to Max’s room, and then when you weren’t here yesterday, I- yeah, I’m sorry, Pierre. I know you can be suffering without looking like shit too.”

Pierre grinned and ate some of his granola. “Thanks, Alex. I’m sorry too. I get really irritable sometimes. I shouldn’t have snapped at you.”

“It’s okay,” Alex replied warmly. “I probably would have snapped at me too. Can I ask, are you in pain right now?”

Pierre nodded. “It’s safe to assume I’m always hurting.”

“What causes it?”

Pierre shrugged. “I’m not a Doctor,” he replied, “and it’s a complicated thing. My understanding is that my central nervous system is fried and my brain is always dealing with pain signals even when it shouldn’t be.”

“That sounds really tiring.”

“It is.”

“Okay, I’m sorry, I’ll stop asking questions,” Alex said, shovelling more scrambled egg into his mouth. “I can tell I’m making you uncomfortable. We can talk about something else.”

“It’s okay,” Pierre said, leaving his spoon in his bowl and folding his hands in his lap. “There’s just a lot going on right now and I’m still trying to understand it myself. I wish I had the capacity to explain it all to you, but I can’t.”

“Let’s talk about something else,” Alex suggested. “Are you going to stay in here all day or are you going to go outside and brave the media, knowing that Max is on pole and Charles is P2? If I was a journalist, I’d be desperate to know what you think will happen.”

Pierre laughed and reached for his spoon, chewing his granola as he considered his answer. “I don’t know what will happen,” he replied. “I trust both of them completely. All I know is that I’m sharing a plane with them and Daniel back to Monaco tonight and it’ll be really fucking tense if they crash into each other.”

“Who do you want to win though?” Alex asked curiously. “Your boyfriend, or your best friend?”

“I can’t answer that without upsetting anyone,” Pierre replied. “I don’t care who wins. I just want them to be safe.”

\---

Pierre napped for most of the flight home, cuddling Max’s winner’s trophy as he laid across Charles’s lap. Pierre had barely let the trophy go since Max handed it to him on his way back from the podium. He cuddled it throughout the team photo and kept it safe while everyone ran around trying to drown each other in champagne. He’d let go of the trophy long enough for it to go through the security scanner in the airport but then he picked it back up again, grinning like a teenage girl whose boyfriend had just won her a giant stuffed animal at a fairground.

When they got back to Monaco, Daniel said his goodbyes and left to go to his own apartment. Max and Pierre went with Charles to his apartment building. It was their first time back in Monaco in nearly a month, and Max had arranged a removal company to pack up, move, and unpack all their belongings to a new apartment. He didn’t feel safe having Pierre on his own in their old apartment, even though they’d changed the locks and not given Jos a new key. Charles had suggested an apartment in his building that was vacant, and it didn’t take much for Pierre to convince Max that the location was ideal. They still had a sea view, and in the new building there was better security with a front desk that was staffed 24h a day and a concierge in case they needed anything. Their new apartment was larger and had a bigger balcony too. 

Charles left Max and Pierre in the foyer and disappeared up to his own apartment. Max found himself zoning out when the woman behind the desk tried to explain paperwork to him. He politely explained that they’d had a busy day and needed to rest, asking if they could just go to the apartment and sleep and deal with all the paperwork in the morning. She agreed, handed Max a set of keys and welcomed him to the building.

When they finally got inside the apartment, Max felt a strange familiarity. The layout was new, the size of the rooms was all different and weird, but at the same time, he recognised all the furniture. It was if someone had been into his apartment and rearranged the walls, rather than move all of their belongings into a new apartment.

Pierre kicked off his shoes and dumped his backpack in the hallway, carrying the trophy through to the living room and proudly setting it down on the coffee table. He sat down on the sofa and stretched his legs out, resting his heels on the edge of the coffee table and wiggling his toes inside his socks.

Max joined Pierre shortly after and curled up next to him, wrapping one arm around Pierre’s shoulder and kissing the top of his head. He closed his eyes and sighed, resting his cheek against Pierre’s head and gently ghosting his fingers over Pierre’s shoulder. “How are you feeling?” he asked, voice little more than a whisper. 

“Safe.”


	15. "You’re supposed to be my boyfriend, not my carer."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pierre and Max have an argument and Pierre goes to Charles for comfort. The next day, Charles and Daniel turn up at Max's apartment and Pierre isn't with them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the second chapter I've posted today. Do catch up with the last one so you haven't missed anything!
> 
> This chapter and the next one are really heavy-going. There's talk of suicidal feelings and I want you to be prepared for what you're going to read so that you can take care of yourself. Have fluffy kitten pictures nearby if that's what you need.

“I  _ am  _ being honest!” Pierre hissed, trying again to tug his wrists free from Max’s grip. Max had barely been home from Italy for an hour and they’d spent most of it arguing. Max still hadn’t taken off his shoes and jacket; his suitcase was still standing in the doorway.

“Pierre, the fridge is  _ empty _ ,” Max said, pushing Pierre backwards until he was up against the wall. “When was the last time you ate? Are you even still taking your medication?”

“You’re hurting me,” Pierre said, trying to push away from the wall but Max’s grip was too strong. Pierre had lost so much of his muscle strength over the past few months through not exercising whereas Max was getting even stronger. “Max, please, it hurts.”

“It always hurts,” Max said icily. The two of them spoke over the top of each other, their voices getting louder. Max ranted about how Pierre needed to take better care of himself if he was going to stay at home on his own and he had to eat properly otherwise it would be no surprise if he felt terrible.

“Shut the fuck up,” Pierre retorted, lashing out. “You’re supposed to be my boyfriend, not my carer. You can’t just push me around when you’re angry. I’m not like you, Max, and you’re turning into your Father.”

Max pushed Pierre back against the wall roughly, one hand square in the middle of Pierre’s chest. “You know what?” he said, forcing himself to stay calm. “I don’t like you when you’re like this. You’re being cruel, and unfair. I’ll go out, and I’ll come back when you can be reasonable.”

“Fuck off then,” Pierre replied, shoving Max away from him. “You’re already packed.”

“I know you don’t mean that,” Max said sadly. “You’re hurting and you’re lashing out at me. It was  _ you  _ who taught me that I don’t deserve to be shouted at by anyone, so I’ll go. I hope you calm down soon, because I really fucking missed you these last two weeks.”

Max left Pierre in the living room and slammed the front door to their apartment on his way out. He took the lift down to the ground floor and forced a smile at the concierge as he headed outside. It was raining in Monaco but not heavily. Max walked down to Port Hercule and sat down, his back against the wall of a building as he looked out at the empty yachts. He stewed for a while, feeling incredibly alone. 

An hour later, Max returned to the apartment and found it empty. He phoned Pierre and checked every room in the house for the sound of a phone ringing but there was no answer. Wherever Pierre had gone, he’d taken his phone with him. Max opened Pierre’s contact in his phone and tapped the ‘show location’ button. The dot on the map was right on top of their apartment.

Max groaned and shoved his hands back in his pocket. There was only one place Pierre could be. Max left the apartment again and took the stairs down to Charles’s floor. He walked along the bright white corridor and knocked on the door to Charles’s apartment.

Charles opened the door half way, leaning against it as he peered out at Max. He was wearing pyjama bottoms and a hoodie and he looked as tired as Max felt. “What do you want, Max?”

“Is he here?” Max asked, folding his hands across his chest.

“Yes, he’s here,” Charles replied, resting his head against the door as well, one hand hanging at his side while the other gripped the door handle from the inside, ready to close it.

“Can I see him?”

“I don’t think so,” Charles replied, shaking his head. “He’s just spent the last half hour in my kitchen crying because he argued with you and now he wants to hurt himself, so, no, I don’t think you can see him.”

“Did he tell you what the argument was about?” Max asked, frowning.

“I don’t care what it was about,” Charles replied, sighing. “I care about Pierre. And when he tells me that he wants to cut himself, I know the only thing I have to do is keep him safe from harm, and I guess that means keeping him safe from you.”

Max sighed and chewed his lip for a few moments, fighting the urge to shout at Charles. “Did he tell you he’s not eating? Did he tell you he’s stopped taking his medication? That’s what the argument was about.”

“I don’t know what you want me to say,” Charles replied. “He’s asleep. I’m looking after him. I’ll bring him home in the morning.”

“Fine, okay,” Max said, admitting defeat and burying his hands in his pockets. “I trust you with him. Please make sure he eats breakfast. He gets nauseous when he takes his medication on an empty stomach.”

\---

Max unplugged his phone from its charger and rolled over in bed. Sunlight was streaming in through the window and when Max unlocked his phone he saw that it was almost ten o’clock in the morning. He had no missed calls from Pierre or Charles but he did have two messages in their group chat with Carlos, Lando, and Daniel. The first was from Pierre, sent at 03:47.  _ I just wanted to tell you guys how much I love you. You’ve been so kind to me and I could never wish for better friends. You all deserve the world and I know you good things will come to you in the future. Pierre x _

The second was from Lando at 04:23.  _ Awwww we love you too Pierre. If you can’t sleep and want to talk, I’m awake xxxxxx  _

Max was distracted from his phone by banging on the front door and he dragged himself out of bed, shuffling through his apartment in just his underwear. He unlocked the front door and pulled it open to find Daniel and Charles standing in front of him. Charles had tears still trickling down his cheeks and Daniel looked worried in a way Max had never seen before.

“Where’s Pierre?” Max asked, feeling immediately nauseous.

“Mate, you should put some clothes on,” Daniel said, following Max into the apartment. “We need to talk.”

“I’m not doing fucking  _ anything  _ until you tell me where Pierre is,” Max said, glaring at Charles. “He was with you last night. You said you’d look after him. You said you’d bring him home. Where is he?”

Daniel stepped in front of Max, shielding Charles from him. He reached out for Max’s shoulder but Max flinched away, shrugging him off with a “get away from me.” Max ducked around Daniel and confronted Charles again. “You said you’d bring him home. What have you done to him?”

Charles shrugged, unable to talk. He reached into the pocket of his hoodie and pulled out a piece of paper that had Pierre’s handwriting on it. It was neat and slanted to the right a lot.  _ I’m sorry. Take care of Max for me _ .

Max snatched the paper from Charles and read it, his breath catching in his throat. “Charles, no, what is this?” he asked, his mind racing. “Why’s he apologising? Why’s he saying you need to take care of me?”

Daniel put his hand on Max’s shoulder from behind and steered him away from Charles. “Go and put some clothes on. We need to call the police.”

Max did as he was told and hurried into his bedroom, pulling a t-shirt and a pair of shorts on before heading out to the living room where Daniel was now crouched on the floor, holding his phone and trying to encourage Charles.

“You can do this, Charles,” Daniel said softly, rubbing Charles’s leg. “Come on. You phoned me, you can phone the police. You need to do this for Pierre.”

Max sat down on the sofa as far away from Charles as he could, and traced his fingers over Pierre’s writing, feeling like he’d been punched in the stomach. He shouldn’t have walked out on Pierre last night. He shouldn’t have left him on his own. He shouldn’t have trusted Charles with him. He shouldn’t have left Pierre on his own for two weeks while he went racing. He should have checked in with him more often. He shouldn’t have shouted at him.

Charles took the phone from Daniel, his fingers trembling as he dialled the number for the police and he sat forward on the sofa, holding Daniel’s hand and closing his eyes. He held his breath until the call connected and he tried his best to speak in clear French. 

Max watched Charles but barely understood what he was saying. All he could hear was Pierre’s words from last night.  _ Fuck off then; you’re already packed _ .

The call ended and Charles dropped the phone, pulling his hand free from Daniel’s grip and cuddling himself, sinking to the side and pressing his head against the arm of the sofa. “They’re sending someone here,” he choked out, chewing on his lip.

“Good,” Daniel said, moving to perch on the edge of the coffee table. He glanced first at Charles and then at Max. “I need you two to work together for Pierre. I know you’re angry, I know you’re hurting, but you need to do this for Pierre. When the police get here, you need to tell them absolutely everything, even if it’s embarrassing or uncomfortable. 

The police arrived and Daniel let them in, getting them seated in the two armchairs in the living room before he himself sat down on the sofa in between Charles and Max. Where Max sought comfort, reaching out to hold Daniel’s hand, Charles shut himself off, tucking his knees to his chest and hugging his shins, still leaning against the arm of the sofa as he tried to ignore the cramps in his stomach.

The police asked when Pierre had last been seen and Charles explained that he’d checked on Pierre at midnight and he was fast asleep. Daniel mentioned the text message at 4am. The police asked for a description of what Pierre was wearing and Charles mentioned the Moncler hoodie and the skinny jeans with the ripped knees.

Max almost crushed Daniel’s hand when the police asked if Pierre was at risk of suicide. Charles nodded and spoke calmly through his tears. “He is at risk,” he explained. “He has a history of mental health issues and he was upset when he came to me last night. He talked about wanting to hurt himself. When I went to check on him this morning, I found a note.”

“Do you have the note?”

Max reached across and handed the crumpled piece of paper to the police officer. “We argued last night,” he said, knowing the police would want to know what was going through Pierre’s head. “I was away for a couple of weeks. I just got back. He hasn’t been eating; the fridge was empty. I think he’s stopped taking his medication too.”

“Does he have health issues?”

“Yes,” Max replied, nodding. He sat tensely on the edge of the sofa, not relaxing when he felt Daniel’s hand on his back. “He has depression and anxiety, he’s had them for years, and a few months ago he was diagnosed with fibromyalgia.”

“What’s that?”

“It’s a disorder that gives him chronic pain and fatigue,” Max explained, tensing even more because he didn’t feel like he could trust the police to take care of Pierre if they didn’t even understand what was wrong with him. “It’s horrible. Even on a good day he will cry and tell me he wishes he didn’t have to feel like this. So Charles is right, he is definitely at risk of trying to hurt himself. If he’s stopped taking his medication, he’s not thinking straight and the note scares me because what is he apologising for if not hurting himself? Why is he telling Charles to take care of me; is he not going to be here to do it himself?”

Daniel rubbed Max’s back, reaching up and squeezing his shoulder. “Pierre has a history of self-harm but he’s never attempted suicide before,” he explained. “Disappearing like this is absolutely out of character for him.”

The police asked a few more questions about Pierre’s phone number, if he had any other friends or family in the area, whether he had a car, and whether Max had a recent photo of him. When they’d finished their questioning and clarified what would happen next, Daniel showed them to the door. He thanked them and then went back to the living room. Max was sat with his face in his hands, sobbing silently, and Charles was already in the bathroom throwing up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well done for making it this far. Spoilers are generally a bad thing, but in this case let me say that Pierre isn't going to die. I know I have a history of writing things that upset people, but I promise you that's not going to happen here. Pierre isn't going anywhere. <3


	16. "We’re going to take such good care of you."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pierre is found. Max and Charles get closer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another tough chapter. Be gentle with yourselves. <3

“Here, eat this,” Daniel said gently, holding out a plate for Charles with two sandwiches on it. He’d been out and bought food both to restock the fridge and to feed Max and Charles because neither of them had eaten since they got back from Italy last night.

Charles shook his head and fidgeted on the sofa, curling into himself even more. “I’ll eat when Pierre eats.”

“Charles, please-”

“No!” Charles hissed, shoving the plate away from him, sending everything onto the floor. “I can’t eat, Daniel, I can’t do  _ anything  _ until we find him. How can I? How can I sit here and eat a fucking sandwich when he’s out there somewhere all on his own? He could be anywhere. He’s on his own, he’s not thinking clearly, and he doesn’t know how much we all love him. He could be already dead. He could be already drowned in the fucking  _ ocean  _ and you want me to sit here and eat a sandwich?! No way. I won’t do it.”

“I know you’re hurting, but-”

“You don’t know shit, Daniel. I’m his best friend. I’m supposed to protect him. I told Max I would look after him, and I failed. I told Max I’d bring him home, and instead I let him disappear. I had him in my apartment, I thought I had him somewhere  _ safe  _ but now I don’t know where he is and I have no idea if he’s safe or not.” Charles stood up from the sofa and pushed past Daniel, moving to stand by the balcony. He pressed his hands against the door and dropped his head, his chest heaving as he struggled to calm himself down.

Daniel picked up the plate and the bits of sandwich and carried it out to the kitchen. He shoved the sandwich into the bin and sighed heavily.

“What’s wrong?” Max asked, stuffing the last of his sandwich into his mouth. He was sitting on the countertop with his legs dangling over the edge and the sandwich had barely scraped the sides of how hungry he felt.

“Nothing, just Charles doing Charles things,” Daniel sighed. He put the plate down on the countertop and set about making Charles a fresh sandwich. “He lashes out when he’s upset.”

Max sat in silence as he watched Daniel remake the sandwich and when Daniel sliced it in half and stacked it on the plate, Max slid off the countertop. “Let me,” he said, picking up the plate. He carried it through to the living room where he found Charles sitting on the floor, his back against the full-height window to the balcony.

Max sat down next to Charles, close enough that Charles could reach the plate but not so close that they were touching. Max kept his gaze on the sandwich as he spoke. “I’m not going to pretend like I know how you’re feeling,” he said quietly, “but don’t take it out on Daniel. He made you a new sandwich and you’ve got to eat it.”

“I can’t,” Charles replied, hugging his knees to his chest. “I feel too sick. I know Daniel wants me to eat, but I physically  _ can’t _ .”

Max set the plate down on the floor next to his side and reached out, taking Charles’s hand in his and squeezing it gently. “I’m sorry I shouted at you earlier. I know you’re trying your best for Pierre.”

“I feel so sick,” Charles said quietly, squeezing Max’s hand back. “I feel like any second the phone is going to ring and it’s going to be the police telling us they’ve found his body and it’s ripping me apart because I should have stopped it. I wish I knew where he was. I wish we could just go to him right now and show him how loved he is and bring him home because I  _ can’t  _ lose him, Max, I can’t bury another friend, I can’t-”

Max cut Charles off with a cuddle as Charles burst into tears. Charles hid his face in his hands and collapsed to the side, falling across Max’s lap. Max held Charles with one arm beneath him and he wrapped his other arm around Charles’s chest, curling over him and pressing his forehead against Charles’s shoulder. “I’ve got you.”

“I’m so fucking scared,” Charles cried, screwing his eyes shut behind his fingers. “I’m so scared that he’s going to die and he’s going to be on his own and he’s going to think that we don’t love him and he’s hurting and he thinks this is the way to stop that but it’s not and I-”

“Shut up, Charles,” Max said through his own tears, shaking his head against Charles’s shoulder. “Stop talking like this. He’s going to come home. The police are going to find him and he’s going to be okay. He’s going to come home and we’re going to show him how much we love him.”

Max flinched when he felt a hand on his back and he looked up to see Daniel knelt next to him, his eyes glassy. Max drew in a ragged breath and hugged Charles a little tighter. “I’m right, aren’t I, Daniel?” he asked nervously. “The police are going to find him?”

“Of course,” Daniel replied, his voice wavering. “He’ll be home before you know it.”

\---

“Pyry’s flight should be landing soon,” Daniel said, glancing at his watch. Max had phoned Christian and explained what was going on with Pierre. Christian agreed that they’d failed to take care of him properly as a team, so he’d put Pyry on the first flight to Nice and he’d stay with Pierre indefinitely.

It was dark outside and Max was asleep on the sofa, his arms folded across his chest and his legs straight out, resting against Charles’s thigh. Charles had managed to eat the sandwich but struggled to eat the simple pasta dinner Daniel had cooked for them.

“That’s good,” Charles said, gritting his teeth. His head was throbbing because he’d barely drunk all day and his muscles were still worn out from the race. He’d won again, filling the pit straight in Monaco with scarlet red but he’d hand back the trophy if it meant they’d find Pierre more quickly.

Max’s phone lit up with an incoming call and the vibrating against the glass coffee table made the noise echo in Charles’s head. Charles’s breath caught in his throat and Max jolted awake, grabbing his phone and swiping to answer the call as he held it to his ear, his eyes too blurry from sleep to make out who the caller was. “Hello?”

There was silence on the other end and Max rubbed his eyes, checking the screen on his phone to see who was calling and whether it was still connected. “Pierre, are you there?” He moved to sit upright on the sofa and he put his phone on speakerphone so Charles and Daniel could hear too.

Pierre didn’t say anything but Max could hear the sound of his breathing.

“Pierre, it’s okay,” Max said, his voice gentler than it had ever been. “Where are you, sweet? Tell me where you are and I’ll come and get you.”

Daniel pulled his own phone out of his pocket and opened his Contacts app. He found Pierre’s details and tapped the ‘show location’ button. A map appeared with a photo of Pierre on the edge of a quay, only a ten minute walk from their apartment building. Daniel moved to sit on the arm of the sofa and showed Max his phone.

“Can you see the ocean, Pierre?” Max asked softly. “Are you by the boats?”

“Yes.”

“We’re going to come and get you,” Max said, standing up and ushering Daniel and Charles towards the door. Daniel helped Max with his shoes and the three of them left the apartment, taking the lift down to the ground floor and walking quickly to the quay. Max tried his best to reassure Pierre as they walked, and Pierre didn’t say much in response.

“Max, I’ve got to go.”

“No you don’t,” Max said gently. “You don’t need to go anywhere. You stay right where you are and we’ll come to you. We’re nearly there. Stay here with us, Pierre, please?”

Daniel hesitated and looked at Max, frowning. When the call cut off, Max almost dropped his phone because he was shaking so much. He pocketed his phone and the three of them broke out into a sprint towards the quay. Charles rounded the corner first and put his arms out to stop Max and Daniel. Pierre was standing on the edge of the pier on the wrong side of the barrier and in front of him were two police officers. Pierre gripped the railings with one hand, his gaze flitting between the police officers and the water.

Max took a small step forward and held his breath, his eyes fixed on Pierre. He couldn’t hear what the police officers were saying but Pierre shook his head every now and then before his gaze eventually settled on the water, inviting him down.

Pierre let go of the railing and disappeared over the side of the quay. Where Charles fell to his knees, Max bolted forward and was at the railing before Pierre had even hit the water. Max tried to climb over the side but the two police officers pulled him back. He struggled hard against them, shouting as one of them twisted his arm behind his back and pressed him up against the railing. Max could see over the side now and there was already a small inflatable powerboat there with two divers on board. Max watched as they hauled Pierre over the side of the boat, smothering him in towels to dry him off and warm him up.

“Please,” Max begged, struggling gently against the police officer holding his arm. “Let me go. I’ll be good. Please let me go.” He stood up straight when the police officer released his arm, reaching up instinctively and rubbing away the pain in his shoulder. 

Max followed the boat along the side of the pier and he hurried down the stone steps to the water’s edge. One of the divers climbed out of the boat and then lifted Pierre up with ease, carrying him up the steps to the top of the pier, setting him down on the ground.

Pierre fought against the blanket, coughing and spitting salty seawater out of his mouth. Other than that, he made no attempt to move. Max fell to the ground next to him and pulled Pierre into his arms, tears streaming down his cheeks. “It’s okay, Pierre, it’s okay, I’m here.”

“An ambulance is two minutes away,” the diver said, though Max couldn’t hear him properly because he had tunnel vision on Pierre.

“I’m here,” Max said again, lifting one hand and brushing Pierre’s hair out of his eyes. His skin felt like ice and his wet hair stuck to his forehead. Pierre’s teeth chattered and Max adjusted the blankets, pulling them tighter around Pierre. “Help is coming, okay? We’re going to get you to the hospital. It’s going to be okay, I promise. We’re going to take such good care of you. You’ll never have to feel like this again, I promise.”

Max bit his lip and leant over Pierre, gently rocking him and he tried desperately to warm Pierre up. He rubbed at his face when he realised his tears were dripping onto Pierre’s face and he dipped his head, pressing his lips against Pierre’s forehead. “You’re safe now, you’re so safe. We’re going to look after you and get you well again. I’m so  _ sorry _ , Pierre. I’m so sorry I shouted at you. None of that matters now, okay? What matters is I love you. I love you more than anything and I’m always going to love you.”

Max reluctantly gave up his grip on Pierre when the paramedics arrived and he pushed himself to his feet, walking unsteadily behind them as they pushed Pierre on a trolley towards their ambulance. Max found Daniel and Charles half way down the pier. Charles was on his hands and knees, struggling to breathe as dry sobs racked his body. Daniel glanced up when he felt Max stop by them.

“Go with Pierre in the ambulance. We’ll meet you at the hospital.”

Max nodded wordlessly and hurried after the paramedics, trusting Daniel to look after Charles. He climbed into the back of the ambulance and tried to keep out of the way while the paramedics worked on Pierre. His pulse was fast and his blood pressure was slow. Pierre murmured something incoherent and Max reached out, gripping Pierre’s ankle.  _ It’s okay, I’m here. _

\---

“Drink,” Pyry said, crouching down in front of Charles. He unscrewed the little on the plastic bottle of water and held it out to Charles, who shifted uncomfortably on the bench in the hospital corridor and reluctantly accepted the bottle, taking several small sips before handing it back to Pyry.

“Keep it,” Pyry said, placing the bottle on the bench next to Charles. “Can I get you anything else?”

Charles shook his head and sat forward on the bench, dropping his head and pressing his forearms against his thighs. It was daylight outside now and Charles had been awake through the night, sitting on the bench in the Emergency Room while he waited to be allowed to see Pierre. He tapped his foot nervously, his head shooting up every time someone walked past in case it was Max or a Doctor with news about Pierre.

Daniel stood outside the hospital spending most of his time on the phone. He called Christian, and he called Carlos, and he called Pierre’s brother (who was liaising with Pierre’s parents because Charles knew they couldn’t handle the news directly). Daniel called his own parents as well and agreed to fly them up to Singapore just so he could spend time with them in person. He called Max’s Mother and Max’s sister and told them what had happened, reassuring them that everything was okay now.

Max walked down the corridor and crashed down onto the bench next to Charles, reaching out and putting his hand on Charles’s back. “He’s okay,” he explained quickly. “Well, he’s not  _ okay _ , but he’s okay. They’ve got him on fluids and painkillers and he’s sleeping now. He’s resting. When he wakes up, they’re going to move him to the Psychiatry ward and they said they’ll keep him there for a few days.”

“Did he say anything?” Charles asked, turning to face Max.

“Nothing that made any sense,” Max replied. “Just that he’s tired and he’s sorry and he doesn’t want to worry us.”

“It’s too late for that,” Charles said, looking back at the floor. 

Max rubbed Charles’s back and sat back on the bench, leaning against the wall. He looked up at the ceiling and then closed his eyes, resting his head against the wall as well. He squeezed Charles a little tighter as he felt Charles curl up on the bench, resting his head and shoulders in Max’s lap.

Pyry stood up then and saw Daniel walking down the corridor. Pyry left Max and Charles and cornered Daniel, reaching out and putting his hand on Daniel’s shoulder. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I think so,” Daniel replied, hugging Pyry for a moment before pulling away and burying his hands in his pockets. “I think I called everyone I needed to. I called my Mum as well; that helped. What’s happening here? How’s Pierre?”

“Stable,” Pyry replied. “They’ll move him to the psychiatry ward soon. As for Max and Charles, they need to go home and sleep. You do too; you look like crap.”

“Are you okay to stay here?” Daniel asked, glancing at Max and Charles. “I don’t think either of them will leave if it means Pierre is here on his own.”

“Of course,” Pyry replied warmly. “I’m here for Pierre. That’s my only job now. Whatever Pierre needs, I’m here. I should have pushed Red Bull to do this earlier, but here we are. Take those two home, get some rest, look after yourself too. I’ll see you all later today.”

Charles and Max left the hospital with little protest, too exhausted to fight Daniel and Pyry when they suggested leaving. Daniel took Max and Charles back to Charles’s apartment and the three of them fell asleep on Charles’s bed. While Charles spooned Max, Daniel laid on his back, Max’s arm wrapped around his hips as he slid his own arm across under the pillows where he could just about reach Charles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I keep writing "Charles's" as "Charle's" and it's pissing me off. Does anyone else do this?


	17. "When are you going to tell him you're in love with him?"

Pierre sat on his stool in the Energy Station in Silverstone, swinging his legs under the table. He pushed his pasta around his plate, still very much feeling like an outsider. His season in GP2 was going well and he was proud to be wearing the Red Bull colours, but sitting in the F1 paddock made him feel uncomfortable. Everyone else seemed really relaxed whereas Pierre was waiting for someone to come over and tell him he was in the wrong place and needed to leave.

Pierre glanced across the roof terrace and saw Max and Daniel sprawled out on a sofa. Daniel was showing Max something on his phone and Max found it hilarious. Pierre smiled as he watched Max; when he laughed, it was a reaction in his entire body. His face contorted as he smiled from ear to ear and he fidgeted uncontrollably, moving between curling up on the sofa, hanging over the side of it, and grabbing at Daniel.

“I can see you staring,” Carlos said, sliding onto the stool opposite Pierre, blocking his view of Max and Daniel, though they could still hear them shrieking. “When are you going to tell him you’re in love with him?”

“I’m not  _ in love  _ with him,” Pierre protested, forking pasta into his mouth and glaring at Carlos as he chewed.

“Oh  _ please _ ,” Carlos grinned, “it’s obvious. You don’t need to be here having lunch; you could be with your team in the GP2 paddock right now. You could be anywhere, but no, you’re here, looking at Max like a puppy dog.”

“How do you even know I like guys?” Pierre asked, his eyes narrowing.

“I didn’t,” Carlos replied honestly, “but I know what love looks like. You look at Max smiling and you smile too. You should ask him out on a date; I’m sure he’d say yes.”

“Why?” Pierre asked, shifting uncomfortably on his stool. “Has he said something to you?”

“I’ve got to go,” Carlos said brightly, climbing off his stool. “I’ll see you later, Pierre, ciao!”

“Carlos, wait-” Pierre groaned and rubbed his hands over his face, his mind racing with what Carlos had just told him. He shovelled more pasta into his mouth and glanced back at Max and Daniel; they’d both settled now and were playing on their phones.

Pierre flinched when his phone buzzed on the table next to him. He put his fork down and picked his phone up, seeing a new text from Max. He glanced up at Max and when Max didn’t look up, Pierre looked back down at his phone.  _ Well done on your win yesterday. First one in GP2, right? I’m sure they’ll be plenty more x _

Pierre fidgeted on his stool and typed out a response to Max.  _ Thank you. I hope you win today. _

Pierre sent the text and received a response a few moments later.  _ I’ll try my best for you! ;-) _

Pierre swallowed hard and ate some more of his lunch, not wanting to seem desperate. He was about to type a response to Max when shade washed over him. He looked up and found Max standing in front of him, smiling widely.

“Hi.”

“Hi,” Pierre replied, grinning up at Max. “I mean it, by the way. You always look great on the podium.”

“I’ve only been on the podium  _ twice _ ,” Max pointed out, moving to stand a little closer to Pierre.

“Yeah, but you’ve only done five races with Red Bull,” Pierre replied. “Which means you’ve been on the podium at 40% of your races. That’s not a bad statistic.”

Max laughed and rolled his eyes. “Watch me mess it up by crashing this afternoon.”

“Don’t be so hard on yourself,” Pierre replied softly, reaching out and touching Max’s arm. He felt warm and Pierre imagined what a cuddle would feel like. Before he could stop himself, he blurted out an invitation to dinner.

“You mean dinner, just the two of us?” Max asked, looking down and seeing that Pierre’s hand was still on his arm. He didn’t shrug away, instead he reached up and put his hand on Pierre’s shoulder, leaning over the table more so that nobody would overhear their conversation.

“Yes.”

“I thought you were dating that 12-year-old Leclerc kid,” Max said, brushing his thumb over Pierre’s neck. 

Pierre smirked. “Firstly, he’s not 12, he’s the same age as you. Second, we’re not dating. He’s just my best friend. I’ve known him since I was 6.” Pierre gazed up at Max and felt like he could see the gears turning in his brain.

“Okay, sure,” Max said, nodding. “I’d love to go on a date with you. Dinner tonight in Milton Keynes? I know a quiet place near the factory.”

“Really?” Pierre asked, flustered that Max would ever consider going out on a date with him. “I mean, yeah, sure, a quiet place sounds nice.”

“Great,” Max replied, tracing his fingers up into Pierre’s hair before pulling away completely. “I’ll text you when I’m back at the hotel.”

Pierre smiled and watched Max walk away from him before turning his attention back to his pasta. His phone lit up with another text as he finished the last bite.  _ Looking forward to tonight x _

“Pierre?”

Pierre groaned and rubbed his hand over his face, fidgeting in his bed in the hospital in Monaco. Though he had a private room and it was much like a hotel room, it still smelled weird and Pierre hated it. He’d much rather be back on the warm Energy Station roof terrace, back when things were simpler.

“Pierre, open your eyes,” the nurse said, shaking Pierre’s shoulder and causing him to wince. “You’re being discharged today, remember? Pyry is here to collect you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What do you think about the flashbacks? If you like them, I can put some more in there. I think it'd be good to see Pierre and Max's happy history, given that this story kind of jumped right into the stressful stuff.


	18. “Do you think I’m a complete fuck-up?”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pierre and Pyry have a heart-to-heart. Max rants about doing media work.

“Can I get you anything else?” Pyry asked gently, perching on the edge of the sofa. It was just him and Pierre in the apartment; everyone else had flown out to Singapore. Max didn’t want to go but Pierre reassured him he’d be fine; they’d talk every day and Pyry would send any urgent updates if Pierre wasn’t able to communicate.

Pierre opened his eyes and glanced at the coffee table; there was a glass of water with a straw in it next to his phone. He hadn’t left the apartment much since getting out of the hospital; Pyry tried to encourage him out for a walk but Pierre had refused, insisting he was still too sore, that he just needed a couple of days of rest and for the medication to start working again.

“Pierre?” Pyry pushed for an answer when Pierre didn’t say anything. “Are you still with me?”

“What? Yeah, sorry, I’m good,” Pierre replied, cuddling his heat pack a little closer to his stomach. “I don’t need anything else. I’ll try and nap for a little while.”

“Okay,” Pyry said, standing up from the sofa. “I’ll be in the kitchen doing some meal prep. If you need me, just shout.”

“Will do,” Pierre replied, closing his eyes again. Being smothered under blankets and hot water bottles reminded him of a time he’d gone on holiday with Charles, Anthoine, and Esteban.

Pierre was sharing a tent with Esteban, and he could hear Charles and Anthoine laughing loudly in the second tent next to them. It was a warm night and Pierre and Esteban were in their underwear; Pierre was restless and had kicked all the blankets away. He rolled onto his side to face Esteban, biting his lip as he watched beads of sweat on Esteban’s chest. 

“What are you looking at?” Esteban asked curiously, dragging his hand across his stomach. Pierre hated how much of a flirt he was; he’d always tease Pierre but then never actually follow through with it. “See something you like?”

“You know I do,” Pierre said, rolling his eyes. Finding some courage, he knocked Esteban’s arms back to his sides and crawled on top of him. Pierre dipped his head and kissed Esteban, grinding his hips down against him as well. 

“What the fuck!” Esteban shoved Pierre roughly, winding him. Esteban forced Pierre onto his back and slapped him hard across the face. “Pierre, what the hell are you doing? I’m not gay. You’re disgusting.” 

Pierre tried to fight back against Esteban but Esteban was bigger and heavier and Pierre couldn’t breathe properly. It wasn’t long before the zip to the tent was ripped open and Charles and Anthoine appeared. Charles dragged Esteban off Pierre and Anthoine helped Pierre out of the tent.

Pierre reached up to thank Anthoine for his help but when his hand went straight through him, Pierre cried out and found himself back on the sofa in his apartment.

“It’s okay, I’m here,” Pyry said, appearing from the kitchen and trying to wipe his hands clean on a towel.

Pierre groaned and pulled himself up into a straighter position on the sofa, pressing the palms of his hands against the heat pack to help ground himself. It didn’t take long for his breathing to return to normal and he closed his eyes, taking a few deep breaths. “When do I start seeing the therapist?”

“Your first session is tomorrow,” Pyry replied, perching on the edge of the sofa next to Pierre. “Did you want to add something to the list of things to talk about?”

Pierre nodded. “Anthoine.”

“I’ll add it,” Pyry said. “Is there anything else?”

Pierre leant his head against the back of the sofa and peered across at Pyry. “Do you think I’m a complete fuck-up?” he asked sadly. “Do you think I’ll ever feel better?”

“I don’t think you’re even a  _ small  _ fuck-up,” Pyry replied. “I think you’re a great person who’s going through a rough time. I think you’re someone who’s trying your best with all the shit life is throwing at you, and I think it’s okay to need a little extra help with that.”

“I’m glad you’re here, Pyry,” Pierre said, closing his eyes. “I don’t have many people I can trust to do what you’re doing for me. I’m sorry I’m pathetic.”

“You’re not pathetic. If I was in your position, I don’t think I’d be handling it any better,” Pyry replied, balling the towel up into his lap. “You’re the one who’s doing all the hard work. I’m just here to help. I can make sure you take your medication at the right time, and I can make sure you eat well, and I can make sure you’re not left on your own again.”

Pierre opened his eyes and smiled at Pyry. “What did I do to deserve you?” he asked warmly.

“I think it’s Max you need to thank,” Pyry replied. “I’ve never seen Christian the way he was after Max phoned him when you were in the hospital. Whatever Max said, it made a difference. Christian told me to drop everything I was doing and come out here. I’m here as long as you need me.”

“What if I need you forever?”

“Then I’ll stay here forever,” Pyry grinned. “I’m sure Max wouldn’t mind me being a third wheel. I think right now you need someone with you 24 hours a day. I’m confident we’ll get to a point where you won’t need that. I have other things I want to do, and I’m sure you do too.”

“I know I don’t want to  _ die _ ,” Pierre said, gripping his heat pack a little tighter. “I know I scared everyone with what I did. I wasn’t  _ trying _ to kill myself.”

“I know,” Pyry replied sympathetically. “I see it as a very loud cry for help. And you know what? We heard it, Pierre, loud and clear.”

Pierre smiled again, his eyes glazing over as he reached out and squeezed Pyry’s arm. “Thank you,” he whispered, pulling away. He wiped his eyes and cleared his throat, turning his head to look out at the balcony. “Is it a nice day today? Maybe we  _ should  _ go for a walk or something.”

\---

“Am I interrupting?” Pierre sounded nervous through the phone and Max wanted to reach through it and cuddle him.

“No, I’m just waiting to go and do some stupid interview for Ziggo,” Max replied, moving his phone to the other ear. “Fuck knows what they have planned this time, but there are safety goggles and I’m scared. Tell me about your day?”

“Not much happened really. Pyry and I went for a walk. We almost got run over by that little tourist train. I’m not very fast at the moment, but Pyry thinks I’ll get better if we do it more. We’re trying to build a routine at the minute. I’m going to go to bed soon.”

“What time is it there?” Max asked, trying to work out the time difference in his head. “It’s only 8, right?”

“Right, but we had dinner at 5 so I think it’s okay. Pyry just gave me a massage to try and relax me and I think it kind of worked. Let’s see how I am tomorrow.”

“I hope you have sweet dreams,” Max said warmly, frowning when his PR handler gestured for him to get off the phone and come to the interview. “Ugh, I’ve got to go and do this stupid interview now. I swear to God if they try and make me eat Durian again, I’m going to actually be sick on television. I don’t even care. I’ll talk to you tomorrow, okay? You can call me at  _ any  _ time and if you’re interrupting, I just won’t answer.”

“I love you.”

“I love you too, sweet,” Max replied. “Get some rest. I’ll talk to you soon.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is turning into my longest fic ever, and for once I didn't have to try and write "Charles's." Maybe we'll just leave him out of the rest of the fic ahaha (I'm kidding, don't worry, he'll be back, it's just really pissing me off that I can't type Charles's without first typing Charle's


	19. "I think I’m having a bad day."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A short little chapter where Pierre and Pyry watch the Singapore Grand Prix.

Pyry got back from the gym and smiled at the women behind the front desk in the foyer of the apartment building. She smiled back holding eye contact with Pyry for a little too long. It had been a long time since Pyry had dated - he’d always been too busy with work - and he couldn’t tell if she was flirting or just being friendly. Pyry made a mental note to check how much she smiled at Pierre next time they went out and he headed for the stairs.

Pyry took the stairs to the top floor, pausing for a moment at the top to let the lactic acid build up drain out of his thighs and then he walked down to Pierre and Max’s apartment (which he supposed was technically his now that all his stuff was unpacked in the guest room) and turned the key in the lock.

Pyry kicked off his shoes in the hallway and dumped his gym bag on top; he’d come back to them later but first he needed to shower. His t-shirt was soaked with sweat, clinging to him where it had been baggy earlier in the day, and his hair was stuck to his head.

“Who’s there?” Pierre called out from the living room and Pyry went through, finding Pierre sitting on the floor, hugging his knees to his chest.

“Only me,” Pyry replied cheerily.

“Where did you go?” Pierre asked, peering up at Pyry. He sounded nervous.

“The gym,” Pyry replied, crouching down in front of Pierre but not getting too close because he was aware that he smelled bad. “I told you I was going, remember?”

Pierre shook his head, his eyes glazing over. “No, I don’t remember,” he said, his breath hitching. “I think I’m having a bad day. I went to the bathroom and it hurt so bad and I can barely walk and I fell and now I can’t get back up and-”

“Ssh, it’s okay,” Pyry soothed, standing up. “Come on, let’s get you back up to the sofa.”

“I don’t want you to carry me,” Pierre protested. “It makes me feel like a fucking child.”

“I won’t carry you then,” Pyry replied, “but let me help you get up to your feet. I can’t leave you sitting on the floor all day.”

“Okay.” Pierre lifted his arms as best he could and Pyry hugged him from behind, lifting him up off the ground with ease. He choked on his cry of pain when his weight went through his feet but after standing still for a few seconds and breathing deeply, the initial wave of pain subsided. He appreciated Pyry’s hand on his back and he walked to the sofa, pressing his hand against it for support as he stepped around to the front and then sat down.

Pierre sighed and dragged his hands through his hair. “My head is so bad today, Pyry, I don’t even know what day it is.”

“It’s Sunday,” Pyry replied, crouching down in front of Pierre again, not wanting to leave a sweat patch on the coffee table. “It’s race day; Singapore. You had eggs for breakfast. I went to the gym; I was gone for two hours. The plan for the rest of the day is lunch, then watch the race, then try some yoga.”

Pierre nodded, understanding most of what Pyry was telling him. “Race day. Will Max be back tomorrow?”

“Yes. He’s taking an overnight flight and he’ll be here tomorrow lunchtime. He’ll be here for two days and then he goes to Russia on Wednesday morning.”

“And today is Sunday?” Pierre checked.

Pyry nodded. “Yes. Today is race day. Tomorrow, Max comes home. The day after, Max is here all day. The day after, Max goes to Russia.” Pyry reached for the half-empty glass of water on the table and held it up to Pierre.

“Today is race day,” Pierre said slowly, accepting the glass and taking a sip. “Tomorrow Max comes home. Why are you so sweaty?”

“I went to the gym,” Pyry explained. “I really should go and take a shower. I’ll be quick, and then I’ll come back and we’ll spend the rest of the day together. Drink some more water for me.”

Pierre did as he was told and took several gulps of the water before handing the glass back to Pyry. Pyry put it in the centre of the coffee table where Pierre would be unlikely to knock it over. 

\---

Pierre and Pyry sat on the sofa together and watched the race. The laps all started to blur together for Pierre but Pyry had a similar feeling given the positions of the top six hadn’t changed since lap one. Charles had a two-second lead over Max, with Sebastian another two seconds behind him.

Pierre was almost asleep by the time the race ended but Pyry nudged him awake as the cars returned to parc fermé. Pierre watched as Charles climbed out of his car and pulled off his helmet and balaclava.

Charles walked over to Max and shook his hand and leaned in close, asking him something the TV cameras didn’t pick up. Max shrugged and then nodded and Pierre could tell he was upset over finishing second. 

Charles left Max and wandered over to David Coulthard for the post-race interview and Pierre cuddled his heat pack closer as he watched them. Charles looked exhausted; it had clearly been a draining race for him and his cheeks were almost the same colour as his race suit.

“Charles, congratulations, a great victory there. What was the secret to keeping Max behind you for two hours?”

Charles grinned and rubbed his hand over his face. “Whew, I don’t know,” he admitted, “I was pushing like hell the whole time. I could see Max in my mirrors and the team were giving me updates. It was really tough to keep him behind. I knew if I missed a single braking point or went too deep in some corners, he’d be all over me.”

“He almost caught you at the pit-stop.”

“I know!” Charles beamed, “that was probably the best out-lap I’ve done in my life. I need to check with the team exactly what happened, I have to understand if it was a problem with the equipment or if I stopped in the wrong place or what, but, yeah, I’m just so happy to have the win. I want to dedicate it to our friend Pierre Gasly. He’s watching at home right now; he’s not very well. I tried my best for him today and I hope he feels better soon.”

“Of course,” David agreed, glancing at the camera. “Pierre, get well soon.”

Pierre felt warmth wash over him as Charles spoke, glad that his friends were still thinking about him even when he wasn’t around. He glanced across at Pyry, “can we try to get out to a race before the end of the season?”

“Sure, we can try,” Pyry replied. “Japan or America might be too soon, I don’t know if I’d want you flying long-haul until November. We need to keep you as stress-free as possible.”

“Maybe Mexico or Brazil then?” Pierre suggested. “I do miss being at the track. “Since my crash in Zandvoort, I’ve only been to France and Hungary. I want to go and support Max. I don’t want to spend the rest of my life in Monaco, and I’m sure you don’t either.”

“I’ll look into it,” Pyry said, climbing out of his arm chair and grabbing Pierre’s empty water glass from the coffee table. “I support you travelling, but we need to make sure you’re well enough first.”

“I’ll do whatever you want,” Pierre called Pyry after he disappeared into the kitchen. He was starting to feel the benefit of his medication again and though talking with his therapist was draining, it was also useful. Pierre was starting to recognise and catch his negative thought patterns, though he knew there was still a long way to go. 

Pierre sipped his water as he watched the podium ceremony, giggling when Max tried to drown Charles with the champagne. Charles spluttered it back out and then chased Max across the podium with his bottle, filling his ear and covering his cheek. Eventually the champagne spray died down and the two of them clinked their bottles, taking several gulps just desperate for something wet to drink. 


	20. "I love you without limits."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Max and Pierre are soft souls.

“Ssh, ssh, it’s okay,” Max whispered trying his best to comfort Pierre. It was five o’clock in the morning and Max had woken up to find Pierre in tears, complaining that Max shouldn’t have to fly halfway around the world just to see him because he should be stronger and he should be able to cope with things. 

Max sat behind Pierre, his chin resting on Pierre’s shoulder and his arms wrapped around Pierre’s stomach, hands sliding up and under his t-shirt, resting on his chest. Max had read somewhere that close physical contact helped to soothe anxiety and he hoped being close brought Pierre comfort. Max felt reassured when he felt Pierre’s ribcage slowly moving under his hands as he breathed.

Max had his legs bent, feet pressing into the mattress and Pierre gently gripped Max’s ankles, his own legs straight out in front of him. Pierre closed his eyes and leant his head back against Max’s shoulder, flinching a little bit when Max’s hair tickled his ear. Pierre licked his lips, his mouth feeling dry, and he whispered a quiet apology.

“It’s okay,” Max said again, his voice quiet because Pierre was so close it felt like they were occupying the same space. “I love you, Pierre, you don’t need to apologise for any of this. I’m going to spend the rest of my life with you and I’m going to love you every single day of it.”

“Even if-”

“Even if nothing,” Max interrupted. “I love you unconditionally.  _ Inconditionnellement _ . I love you without limits. You mean everything to me, sweet, do you think I’d fly halfway around the world to spend less than 48 hours with someone I didn’t care about?.”

Max felt Pierre grip his ankles a little tighter, and he turned his head to kiss Pierre’s neck, cuddling him with his arms and his legs and wishing he had more limbs he could use to cuddle Pierre. “Don’t ever think I love you anything less than 100%, okay? And don’t apologise for how you feel, okay?”

“Okay.” Pierre’s voice was barely audible but Max heard it and he kissed Pierre again, smiling against his jaw.

Max sat up a little straighter and pulled one hand out from under Pierre’s shirt, lifting it instead to caress Pierre’s cheek. He smoothed Pierre’s hair behind his ear and scratched his beard under his chin, moving to caress Pierre’s cheek with the back of his knuckles. Max reached under Pierre’s neck and cupped his other cheek in his hand, delicately turning Pierre’s head towards him.

Pierre slowly opened his eyes and blinked away the last of his tears, peering up at Max and meeting his own blue eyes. Pierre smiled, his eyes falling shut again as Max kissed him properly. Max’s tongue felt warm against his and Pierre melted even further into the embrace, his fingers losing their grip on Max’s ankles. The only thing he could feel was Max gripping his jaw and he whimpered when Max pulled away breathless.

Max moved his hand back down to Pierre’s waist and kissed his cheek, resting his head against Pierre’s head. “I missed you,” he whispered, “I’m glad I came back from Singapore.”

Pierre placed his hands on top of Max’s hand and pursed his lips, kissing Max’s collarbone. “Talk to me,” he asked. “Tell me what we’d do if you didn’t have to leave and if I wasn’t sick. Where would we be? What would we do?”

Max closed his eyes for a moment, thinking. “I’d take you away to the mountains,” he replied, “remember that cabin we went to in Switzerland? We’d go there again. Just you and me. There’d be a tiramisu in the fridge. I’d cook you pasta arrabbiata and the cabin would smell amazing.”

Max smiled when he saw that Pierre’s eyes were shut and he continued, trying his best to describe it to help Pierre picture it in his mind. “The tiramisu would be just how you like it, clear layers, and then we’d sit with a bottle of wine and look at the mountains. You’d complain that you’re too hot and you’d take your socks off. I’d massage your feet for you; they’d be sore from the hiking we did along the ridge.”

“Keep going,” Pierre whispered.

“It’d get dark outside,” Max said, tracing a pattern against Pierre’s chest with his fingers. “So we’d have to go inside. I’d light candles; not so many that we’d set fire to the place but enough to be able to see each other. We’d get undressed and we’d end up in bed. You’d still complain about the temperature and you’d lie down like a starfish.”

“Then what would you do?”

“I’d kiss you,” Max replied, pressing his lips to Pierre’s temple. He pulled his hand up from Pierre’s waist and cupped Pierre’s jaw, dragging his thumb over Pierre’s bottom lip. “I’d kiss you all over. I’d kiss your face, and I’d kiss your arms and I’d tell you how beautiful you are.” Max delicately dragged the backs of his fingers down Pierre’s arm, his fingernails bringing Pierre out in goosebumps.

“I’d kiss your chest,” Max continued softly. “And I’d kiss your stomach and you’d laugh and tell me you’re full up on tiramisu. I’d kiss your legs; tickle you behind the knees and make you fidget and I’d worship your feet. I’d make you feel so good, Pierre.”

Pierre screwed his eyes shut and reached out his hands, feeling around to find Max’s hand and he pulled Max in close, pressing Max’s hand against the front of his boxers. “Don’t stop.”

Max nuzzled Pierre’s cheek and pushed his boxers down over his hips, taking Pierre in his hand. “I’d completely undo you,” he said, “I’d beg you to let me make you come and you’d say no. You’d tell me to get down on my hands and knees.”

“I would,” Pierre replied, his hips jerking under Max’s touch. “I’d take my time with you. I’d make you wait. I’d make you touch yourself. You’d press your face into the mattress, keeping your hips high for me and I’d go so slowly with you. I’d use my mouth, then one finger, then two-”

“Fuck, Pierre,” Max groaned, pulling Pierre’s hips back against him, pressing himself against Pierre’s arse. “I want-”

“I know what you want,” Pierre replied, smiling. “You never did learn to be patient, did you?”

“No.” Max let go of Pierre and helped Pierre lie down on his back. He pulled Pierre’s boxers off over his feet and threw them over the side of the bed, his own following shortly after.

“Tell me if I hurt you,” Max said, kneeling in the space between Pierre’s legs and pressing his hands into the mattress either side of Pierre’s hips. He dropped his shoulders and took Pierre in his mouth, pushing his hips as high as he could because that’s how Pierre wanted him.

Pierre moaned as he felt Max’s tongue against him and he threw his head back against the pillows. “Max, I’m going to-”

Max choked against Pierre’s orgasm, pulling away and wiping his hand on the back of his mouth, grinning widely. He watched Pierre for a few moments, his chest heaving as the aftershock of his orgasm rippled through him. Pierre fisted his t-shirt, pulling the fabric away from his chest as he caught his breath.

“Did you enjoy that?” Max asked, leaning over Pierre and pecking his lips, rubbing his nose against Pierre’s.

“Get on your hands and knees,” Pierre replied, pushing Max away from him. Max was obedient and Pierre moved to kneel behind him. Pierre scratched his fingers down the back of Max’s thighs, making him hiss. “Touch yourself.”

Max whimpered and did as he was told, pressing his cheek into the mattress as he wrapped his fingers around himself, pulling hard. He pushed his hips as high as he could, moaning loudly when he felt Pierre slide his fingers against him. Max’s orgasm took him by surprise and he jerked away from Pierre, collapsing onto the mattress and jerking his hand, wanting to draw his orgasm out as long as possible.

Pierre laid down on his side next to Max, wrapping one arm around Max’s back. He cuddled Max close, kissing away the sweat on his shoulder. “You’re perfect.”

“I’m stuck,” Max replied, both his hands stuck under his hips. 

“Have you made a mess?” Pierre grinned, letting go of Max and rolling onto his back. He watched as Max tentatively pushed himself up onto his knees. “Oh, you  _ have  _ made a mess. We should change the sheets.”

“We should,” Max said, a smile playing on his lips as he wiped his hand across Pierre’s thigh. “But first, we should shower. 


	21. "Let him sleep."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pierre has a rough night. Charles and Max bond.

Charles woke with a start, his body dripping in cold sweat as his nightmare faded and he found himself alone in his hotel room in Russia. He grabbed at the bed sheets to ground himself and forced his eyes open, cursing under his breath. Forcing himself to take slow breaths, Charles sat up in bed, his back damp against the pillows and he dragged his hands through his hair, rubbing his eyes.

Charles’s phone lit up on the bedside table and he screwed his face up when he saw the time. 03:47. Charles grabbed his phone and saw two messages from Pierre in their group WhatsApp chat. The first was a wall of text, all in French, and the second was a red flag emoji. When Charles saw that, he didn’t even read the wall of text, he immediately started a video call with Pierre. Daniel had set up a system in their group chat where you could ask for help if you were struggling to verbalise how you felt. One yellow flag meant support was needed, two yellow flags meant someone was really struggling with bad thoughts and more in depth support was needed, and a red flag was to be treated as an emergency. Lando had sent a yellow flag one night in Italy and Max had spammed him with cat pictures. Daniel had sent two yellow flags after his crash in Singapore and Carlos had gone to his room and cuddled him.

Charles struggled to hold his phone while the call connected and when the screen changed, Charles saw Pierre curled up on his side in bed, one arm reached out in front of him towards the phone. Pierre’s phone was propped up on a stand on the bedside table and the lamp was on.

“Talk to me, Pierre,” Charles said quickly, turning on the lamp in his own room. “I didn’t read all of your message. Are you at home?”

“Yes.” 

“Is there anything nearby you could use to hurt yourself?” Charles asked tentatively. 

“No.”

“Are you sure?” Charles checked, holding his phone closer to his face. Pierre’s hair was in his eyes and his beard was messy; Charles couldn’t tell if he’d been crying or not. “Pierre, please-”

“There’s nothing,” Pierre said, fidgeting a little in the bed. “I promise. I shouldn’t have sent that red flag. You should go back to sleep. It’s the middle of the night.”

“I don’t care,” Charles replied, “I’d rather be talking to you. What do you want to talk about? Do you want me to try and get hold of Pyry?”

“No. Let him sleep. I was a dick to him yesterday; he probably wouldn’t want to see me anyway. I don’t know why I say stupid, horrible things to people I care about. I know I shouldn’t push him away, but I do and it sucks because I  _ need  _ him,” Pierre said, the words falling out of his mouth. “I feel so overwhelmed by everything right now. That’s why I sent the red flag. It’s too much. It’s too much and I can’t do it and I just-”

“Ssh, it’s okay,” Charles said, trying his best to sound comforting. “I’m here, okay? There’s nothing you need to do right now, there’s no problem you have to fix right now. You are safe, you are loved, you are going to survive the night, I promise you.”

Charles saw a banner notification appear at the top of his phone screen telling him about several whatsapp messages. He tapped the notification and was taken to the group chat.

_ Lando Norris: I’m awake. Just tried calling you but you’re already on a call. I don’t understand what you wrote, but I hope you’re okay. You can call me if you need me xx _

_ Daniel: Who’s on the call with Pierre? It isn’t me. _

_ Max: Not me either. _

Charles quickly typed out a message to the group:  _ I’m on the call. Room 1407.  _ and then Charles tapped the screen to be taken back to the video call. “I’m still here,” he said softly, “I didn’t go anywhere. What do you want to talk about? Do you want me to distract you?”

“I don’t know what I want,” Pierre sighed, rubbing at his face. “My brain feels like scrambled eggs. I can’t sleep and it feels like I’m going crazy. I’ll listen if you want to talk.”

“Oh, I can talk,” Charles said, smiling at his phone. “I can bore you to sleep with what we did in second practice if you’d like. I almost crashed on the way out of the pit lane. Fortunately they didn’t show it on TV and fortunately I didn’t actually hit anything because it would have been really embarrassing. We did our long run and it was mostly fine. I struggled with understeer in turns 9 and 10 and there was one lap I did a huge lock up at turn 13. The kind of lock up where your tyres turn square and you shit yourself a little bit.”

“I can imagine,” Pierre replied, closing his eyes. “Keep talking.”

“I’m getting more confident in the debrief now,” Charles continued, climbing off his bed when he heard a knock at the door. “I’ve seen the kind of feedback that the engineers want and I feel like I’m getting better at giving that. Obviously I can’t tell you all my secrets because you’ll tell Max and then he’ll know my weaknesses.”

“I’ll tell Max, understeer in turns 9 and 10.”

“No, don’t tell him!” Charles laughed, pulling open the door to find Max standing in front of him, the hood pulled up on his hoodie. Charles ushered Max into the room wordlessly and closed the door. The two of them perched on the edge of the bed and Charles held his phone so Max could see the screen too.

“Max is here,” Charles said, switching to English so Max could understand what he was saying. “Do you want me to leave you two alone?”

Pierre flinched and hid his face in his hands. “I don’t want Max to see me like this,” he said, still speaking in French. “I’m awful and pathetic and I don’t want him to think I can’t cope when he’s not here.”

“He doesn’t think that,” Charles replied, as Max went over to the balcony to phone Pyry. “He loves you. I promise he doesn’t think you’re pathetic.”

Charles turned down the volume on his phone as Pierre broke down in tears; his screams cut right through Charles’s heart and Monaco had never felt so far away. Max came back to sit next to Charles and the two of them watched as Pyry came into the room to try and comfort Pierre.

Charles thrust his phone into Max’s hand as Pierre fought against Pyry, protesting in French that he didn’t deserve anyone’s help, and Charles rushed into the bathroom, retching over the sink. Charles washed his hands under warm water and then turned the tap to cold, splashing water onto his face. He gripped the edges of the sink and dropped his chin to his chest, forcing himself to take slow breaths until the wave of nausea passed.

“Charles?” Max’s voice was quiet from the doorway but it still startled him.

“Sorry.” Charles pushed away from the sink and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. Max handed him his phone and the screen was black now. “What happened?”

“Pyry’s going to call me back later,” Max explained, stepping back out to perch on the edge of the bed. “Will you tell me what Pierre’s message said?”

Charles climbed back into the bed, pulling the covers up over his bare chest and he unlocked his phone, his fingers trembling. “I can’t translate it word for word,” he said, opening up WhatsApp, “because some of it doesn’t make any sense, but… he’s overwhelmed. He apologises for being a burden and for interrupting us in the middle of the night. He says he’s trying his best to be strong but that he’s sorry it’s not working. He’s tired of feeling tired and he doesn’t want to be in pain anymore. He says he’s not going to hurt himself but sometimes he thinks dying wouldn’t be a bad thing. And then he apologises for saying that because he knows it’ll upset you.”

“Thank you,” Max whispered, staring down at the floor.

“Do you want to stay here tonight?” Charles offered, gripping his phone tighter to keep his fingers from trembling.

Max shook his head and stood up. “I should go,” he mumbled, still not meeting Charles’s gaze. “I’ll see you at the track. I’ll let you know if Pyry calls me.”

“Wait!” Charles’s voice cracked as Max grabbed the door handle and Max hesitated, turning back to face Charles. Charles shifted in the bed and tucked his knees to his chest. “Max,  _ I  _ want you to stay.”

Max let go of the door handle and kicked his shoes off, silently crossing the room. He lifted up the other side of the duvet and climbed into the bed next to Charles, lying down on his back. Charles turned off the lamp and curled up on his side next to Max, reaching one arm over Max’s chest and settling his head on Max’s shoulder. Max looped his arm around Charles’s back and held him close and the two of them fell asleep in silence. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's really interesting to me the relationship between Max/Charles and how that's forming through this fic. On the one hand, they're close rivals on track and so will never truly be close friends, but on the other hand they both care deeply about Pierre and are going through similar things that nobody else really understands. It feels like they've developed this silent agreement between them where they'll comfort each other but never talk about it. I hope that comes across in my writing, because that's what I'm thinking about.


	22. "I’ll support whatever you want to do"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charles spends the afternoon with Max and Pierre.

Charles stepped out onto the balcony in Max and Pierre’s apartment and pulled the door shut behind him. Pyry was sitting outside soaking up the last of the day’s sunshine and Max and Pierre were cuddled up together on the sofa in the living room.

“Can I join you?” Charles asked politely, sitting down on the bean bag opposite Pyry when Pyry ushered him down. Charles had joined the three of them for a late lunch after getting back from Russia. “I want you to talk to me about Pierre. I want to understand what he’s dealing with.”

“He doesn’t tell you himself?”

“He tries,” Charles replied, “but he switches between thinking everything is terrible, and saying that he’s absolutely fine. I think the reality is somewhere between those two things. I just want to understand it better so I can be a better friend for him. How is he when he’s not crying down the phone at me? That sort of thing. Will you tell me? Please?”

“He’s fighting hard,” Pyry replied, locking his phone and sliding it back into his pocket, giving Charles his full attention. “The anxiety, he’s been dealing with that for years, you know what that’s like. He’s working through a lot of conflict right now; he’s working hard with his therapist and I’m trying my best to remove as many stressors from his world as I can. He’s grieving; you know how it is, you’re a professional athlete too. When you have something career-ending happen, it’s a grieving process. He’s finding it hard because motorsport is so wrapped up in his identity, except now he can’t participate but he also can’t leave it behind either. He’s working to refind his place in this world.”

Charles nodded, glancing back into the living room where he could just see Pierre’s feet dangling over the arm of the sofa. “I don’t know what I’d do if I couldn’t race.”

“You’d do exactly what Pierre’s doing,” Pyry replied. “You’d acknowledge it, reach out for help, and try your damnedest to cope with it. It’s made harder by his physical state. The biggest things he’s dealing with there are the pain and the fatigue. There are lots of things that help a little bit, but nothing that’ll help completely. Exercise helps, but my challenge is keeping him from getting frustrated that he can’t do the things he used to. He’s not going to run an 18-minute 5k again anytime soon. We’re walking a lot though and we’ve jogged 2k, and he’s started coming to the gym with me.”

“What does he do in the gym?” Charles asked curiously.

“The same thing I do, but without the weight,” Pyry replied. “We’ve gone right back to the fundamentals of movement and he’s learning a lot about what his body can and can’t do. He’s been doing a lot of yoga as well, practicing things like meditation and mindfulness. As far as his day-to-day is, he’s stiff first thing in the morning, his most usable hours are in the afternoon and by the time it gets dark, he’s ready for bed. I think he’s finally accepting that he can’t get as much done in a day as everyone else; it helps that I’ve taken all the cooking on, but even that is a balance because he doesn’t want to feel helpless. Overall I’d just there’s a lot of conflict, but he’s trying his best and he’s making progress. I’m confident he’ll get to a point where he doesn’t need someone here around the clock. He’ll get his independence back. He just needs to find that middle ground between hiding in his room and pushing himself until he’s sick.”

“And how are  _ you _ ?” Charles asked, fidgeting on his bean bag. “This can’t be easy for you either.”

Pyry thought for a moment, choosing his words carefully. “I’m not going to pretend it’s not upsetting to see him struggle,” he said, frowning, “but it’s deeply rewarding for me to work with Pierre and see him make progress. Sure, there are different goals to this time last year, but that’s life; shit happens, things change, we reassess and we move forwards. And on a personal level, I really enjoy his company and it’s been good for me too to do all this yoga and meditation. I feel relaxed, and building a routine with Pierre has helped me work on stuff in the gym I always wanted to but never had time to. I don’t know how much longer I’ll be here with Pierre, but right now, I’m happy where I am. I like Monaco.”

\---

“Thanks for having me over,” Charles said warmly, standing up from the sofa, “but I should get back, let you enjoy the rest of your day in peace.”

“I’ll see you out,” Pierre replied, climbing off the sofa too. He followed Charles through to the hallway and they stopped when they got to the front door. Pierre leant against the wall as he watched Charles stuff his feet into his shoes and then Pierre hugged him.

Charles hugged Pierre back and pulled away slightly, cupping Pierre’s face in his hands and smiling at him. “You’ve got to keep taking good care of yourself, okay?”

“I’m trying,” Pierre replied, closing his eyes. “It’s hard work. It takes time.”

“I know it does.” Charles leant forward and kissed Pierre’s forehead. “But you’ll get there. There’s only one Pierre Gasly and I need you to look after him for me. Do what Pyry says, he seems like a smart guy.”

Pierre nodded under Charles’s touch and opened his eyes, offering Charles a small smile. “I don’t know what I’d do without him,” he said, his voice barely more than a whisper.

Charles kissed Pierre’s forehead again and then pulled away completely, straightening Pierre’s t-shirt for him. “I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?” he said brightly. “Can’t believe I’m still actually invited for Max’s birthday.”

Pierre grinned and pulled open the front door. “I told you he’d warm up to you eventually. I don’t know if I’ll ever see you two hanging out on your own, but I think he can tolerate you in a group.”

“Tolerate me in a group?” Charles replied, his eyebrows raised. “That’s a big compliment, coming from that asshole. I’ll see you tomorrow. I’m not getting him a gift.”

\---

“Are you excited for tomorrow?” Pierre asked, fidgeting in bed and scooting closer to Max, wrapping one arm around his waist and smiling against his chest. “It’s your birthday.”

“I think so,” Max replied, folding his hands behind his head, under the pillow. “I heard from Lando; him and Carlos made it to Daniel’s place okay. I think I’m excited.”

“You’re not sure?”

Max hesitated before answering. “I miss my Dad,” he said quietly. “I know I can’t just forgive him for what he did but I miss talking to him. Is that selfish? I miss my little siblings too. It probably sounds really horrible, me wanting to see him again after what he did to you-”

“-what he did to  _ both of us _ ,” Pierre corrected, squeezing Max. “It wasn’t just me he hurt. I have memories of you being covered in blood because of him, remember? It’s not horrible that you want to see him again, of course it’s not, he’s your  _ Dad _ . I’ll support whatever you want to do, Max, but I can’t make the decision for you.”

“I know.” Max pulled one hand out from under the pillow and wrapped it around Pierre’s shoulders, cuddling him close. “I’m sorry my family is such a mess.”

Pierre turned his head and kissed Max’s chest. “Tomorrow is going to be fun,” he said, closing his eyes. “Jet skis, cake, dancing, I’m looking forward to it.”

“It’s not too much?” Max checked, tracing his fingers up the back of Pierre’s neck and into his hair. “I don’t want to wear you out.”

“I’ll be  _ fine _ ,” Pierre insisted, kissing Max’s chest again. “And if I’m not, I’ll just come home and you can carry on partying without me. I’m not worried about tomorrow; I’m looking forward to it. It’ll do you all some good to have a day off from racing as well. You, me, Pyry, Daniel, Charles, Carlos, Lando, it’s going to be  _ chaos _ .”

Max grinned and closed his eyes. “I guess you’re right. I’ll stop worrying about it.”

“Don’t worry about a thing,” Pierre replied, feeling his eyes getting heavier. “It’s your birthday. We’re going to have fun.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter will be longer. Max's birthday! Yay exciting. :D


	23. “I’m sorry my voice is so hoarse; I did a lot of singing.”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The night of Max's birthday. :)

“Ssh, they’re probably sleeping,” Max hissed, turning around and shushing Carlos as the two of them stumbled into his apartment. Pierre and Lando had left the nightclub early after Lando complained that he was tired, and everyone else had stayed until the early hours of the morning. Daniel and Pyry had gone upstairs to Charles’s apartment for some last drinks, and Carlos and Max were checking on Pierre and Lando.

“Me? You’re the one who’s making all the noise,” Carlos protested, gently closing the front door before following Max through to the living room. 

Pierre was sprawled out on the sofa, his head just visible under several layers of blankets and his arm was sticking out from under the side of the blankets. Lando was sitting on the floor, holding Pierre’s hand in both of his. 

Lando looked up at Max and Carlos through teary eyes, and he blinked a few times, trying but failing to will his tears away. “He’s sleeping now,” he whispered, looking back at Pierre, watching the blankets rise and fall with each breath he took. “I keep checking his pulse to make sure he’s still alive; I’ve watched every single breath for over an hour. I can’t help it; I’m so worried.”

“What happened?” Max asked tentatively, sitting down on the floor next to Lando. Carlos sat down on Lando’s other side and gently rubbed his back.

Lando shrugged, struggling to fight the words he wanted. “He collapsed in pain. I sat with him on the floor for ages; he didn’t want to move. He just kept apologising for scaring me, and I was panicking, you know? I didn’t know whether to call you guys or call an ambulance and he kept telling me not to worry as if he can just lie on the floor screaming in pain and I can just do  _ nothing _ -” 

Lando let out a loud whimper as he broke down in tears and Pierre stirred on the sofa. Lando choked back another sob and squeezed Pierre’s hand, gently tracing his fingers over Pierre’s palm before pressing two fingers against his wrist, checking his pulse again.

Pierre opened his eyes and lifted his hand for Lando’s face. Lando dipped his head, hiding his face against the cushion of the sofa, mumbling incoherently about how sorry he was while Pierre cupped the back of Lando’s head, brushing his fingers through the brown curls.

“Pierre, are you okay?” Max asked softly, reaching up and brushing Pierre’s hair out of his face. His movements were a little uncoordinated due to all the alcohol in his system but he could still be gentle.

“Yeah,” Pierre replied, clearing his throat. “I mean,  _ no _ , but, I’m okay. Lando, I’m okay, you did so good.”

Lando lifted his head and wiped his eyes before holding Pierre’s hand again. “Really?”

“Yes,” Pierre replied, squeezing Lando’s fingers. “You got blankets and pain killers, and your hands are so  _ warm _ . I was so comfortable when I fell asleep.”

“I just want you to be okay,” Lando said, kissing Pierre’s knuckles before holding his hand against his cheek.

“I’m okay,” Pierre said again, closing his eyes. “Where’s everyone else?”

“They’ve gone upstairs to Charles’s place,” Max replied, stroking his fingers over Pierre’s cheek. “I’m sorry my voice is so hoarse; I did a lot of singing.”

“You should go upstairs and join them,” Pierre said, curling his head towards Max’s touch. “It’s your birthday.”

“No, I’m staying here,” Max insisted. “I had so much fun today, I really did, but it’s over now and I just want to get in bed with you, wrap my arms around you, and sleep. Can we do that?”

Carlos stood up and nudged Lando in the shoulder. “We should go,” he said quietly.

Lando let go of Pierre’s hand reluctantly and looked down at Max. “Are you sober enough to take care of Pierre?” he asked, his eyes narrowing suspiciously. 

“Yes, I promise,” Max replied, offering Lando a warm smile. “I’ll be extra gentle with him for you, and I’ll see you guys in the morning for breakfast, right? You’re all coming back here?”

“Yes, we’ll see you in the morning,” Carlos said, wrapping his arm around Lando and guiding him out of the apartment.

Max knelt a little closer to Pierre and kissed his cheek. “How are you  _ really _ ?” he asked once the front door clicked shut. “I can tell you’re putting on a brave face for Lando.”

Pierre scoffed and fidgeted under his blankets. “I love you,” he said quietly, carefully pulling himself up into a sitting position and refusing to answer Max’s question because they both knew he wasn’t okay. “I just need to go to bed.”

Max stood up and delicately pulled the blankets away from Pierre, draping them over the side of the sofa. Pierre sat up and swung his legs over the side of the sofa and Max gently took Pierre’s hands in his, pulling him up to his feet.

After checking that Pierre was okay to walk, Max wrapped his right arm around Pierre’s shoulder and held Pierre’s left hand with his left hand, guiding him slowly towards the bed. Pierre hesitated in the doorway, screwing his eyes shut and forcing himself to take several slow breaths.

“You’re doing great, you’re nearly there,” Max said, waiting until Pierre started moving again before guiding him over to the bed.

Pierre ducked out from under Max’s arm and sat down on the bed. Lando had already undone all the buttons on his shirt and jeans, so Max helped Pierre undress completely before Pierre curled up on his side under the covers.

Max stripped to his boxers too and crawled into bed next to Pierre, hugging him from behind and nuzzling his hair. “I love you, Pierre,” he whispered. “I had a great day today.”

“Really?” Pierre asked tentatively, placing his hand on top of Max’s hand as Max wrapped his arm around Pierre’s waist.

“Really,” Max replied. “Thank you for coming out on the water with us. I was worried because I love jet skis but the last time I saw you in the water was, you know, and I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable. I just wanted to play about on jet skis with my friends and I’m glad we could do that. Was it okay for you? Did you have fun?”

Pierre scooted back in the bed, pressing as much of himself against Max as he could and he closed his eyes, turning his head and smiling when Max nuzzled his cheek. “I had fun,” he whispered. “Even when I fell off the back of Carlos’s jet ski, I had fun. I didn’t think about that night I, you know, I just thought about you and how much I wanted you to have a good birthday.”

“I had the best birthday,” Max replied, kissing Pierre again. “I love you so much. I want to spend every birthday with you for the rest of my life. Can we do that?”

“Yes,” Pierre replied simply, falling asleep still tangled in Max’s arms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I was in Monaco last weekend for a little holiday, and it was great because my boyfriend proposed on Valentine's Day as we sat on a pier at the edge of Port Hercule, so romantic.
> 
> But I also visited the pier where Pierre jumped from a few chapters ago and it made me honestly quite sad. Writing this is tough, but I'm going to keep going because it's cathartic and I want to see Max and Pierre have a happy ending. There are more dark times coming but their relationship is and always will be solid - they're a team, a street gang of two people with their support network and they're going to have happy times as well. :)


	24. "I’ll try my best to make him happy."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Max talks to Charles. Pierre talks to Jos. Neither of these conversations end in an argument.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> kakkakerssi what are you doing writing positivity...

Charles fidgeted in his seat at the hotel breakfast and pushed his scrambled eggs around his plate. He knew he needed to eat but he wasn’t hungry; he’d had another nightmare and had struggled to get back to sleep afterwards. The jet lag was messing with his body clock and he hated being in Japan. It was too bright, too noisy, everyone was too friendly despite nobody speaking his languages, and he wanted to go home. He didn’t want to race around the track where Jules had died; he wanted to go home, watch Netflix with Pierre, and pretend that his team-mate wasn’t beating him in the championship.

Charles had nightmares about Pierre. In his dreams, he was on the pier trying to get to Pierre. Pierre was screaming for Charles to help him but Charles could never get to him before the police pushed him over the railings and into the ocean. In his dreams, Charles jumped into the water after Pierre, swimming deeper until he woke up in a cold sweat, the feeling of water burning his lungs as Pierre’s screaming echoed in his ears.

“Can I join you?” Max asked, holding a plateful of food and looking down at Charles optimistically.

“Sure,” Charles replied, grateful for a distraction from his thoughts. “Have you heard from Pierre today?”

“Not yet,” Max said, sitting down opposite Charles at the table and shovelling granola into his mouth. “I spoke to him before I went to sleep though. He’s okay, though; he said he’s been doing a lot of walking this week, and he and Pyry are considering taking up fishing. I don’t know why, and I don’t want to ask. I wanted to talk to you about Pierre, actually.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah.” Max chewed and swallowed his granola before putting his spoon down. “I want to ask him to marry me.”

“Oh my god,  _ Max _ ,” Charles said, his eyes lighting up. “That’s exciting news.”

“I hope so,” Max replied nervously. “I wanted to check with you first, see what you think. Do you think he’d say yes?”

“One hundred percent,” Charles replied, nodding. “He loves you, of course he would say yes. When are you going to do it?”

“I don’t know yet,” Max said, reaching for his spoon and munching more of his granola. “I want it to be perfect. I don’t think he’d be interested in some big public display of affection.”

“No, I agree,” Charles replied, nodding more. “Maybe somewhere quiet, just the two of you? Maybe you have a special place you like going to?” Charles grinned and then held up his hands in surrender. “I’ll stop suggesting things. I don’t need to tell you how to propose to the love of your life. I know whatever you do, Pierre will love it. He adores you.”

\---

Pierre sat on the sofa in the living room of Jos’s apartment, cuddling Max’s baby brother on his lap. Jason smiled widely as Pierre cooed at him, tickling his tummy and kissing the top of his head. “I missed you, little man,” he said in soft French as Sandy came back into the room, sitting down in the arm chair opposite Pierre.

“I just spoke to Jos, he’ll be back in ten minutes,” Sandy said, watching Pierre cuddle Jason with an affectionate look on her face. “I think he’s missed you and Max.”

“Yeah, we’ve missed him too,” Pierre replied, kissing Jason’s hair again. “Has Jos talked about Max at all?”

“He misses him,” Sandy explained, “but he’s too stubborn to pick up the phone and apologise. He knows what he did was wrong, but he can’t bring himself to admit it to Max. Honestly, he’s acting like a child and it needs to stop. I should have made him call Max earlier, but I’m glad you’re here now. Hopefully we can end this stupidity today.”

“We flew out of the country because of him,” Pierre said sadly, fidgeting as Jason wriggled in his lap. Pierre adjusted his grip on the toddler, relaxing when Jason grabbed his fingers. “And we moved house because of him. It’s messed up. Max shouldn’t have to feel unsafe in his own home because of his Father.”

“I agree,” Sandy replied, nodding, “and I agree with you keeping your new address to yourselves. You and Max need to look out for each other; the fewer people who know where to find you, the better.”

“Maybe,” Pierre replied, gazing down at Jason and knowing he wouldn’t be able to visit any time soon. He kissed Jason again and closed his eyes, cuddling him close for a few minutes until Jos returned.

Jos sat down in the armchair next to Sandy and folded his arms across his chest. He looked at Pierre suspiciously, not sure of his motives. “What do you want, Pierre?”

“I don’t want to fight with you,” Pierre replied, feeling on edge but not too unsafe. There’s no way Jos would hurt Pierre with his wife watching; plus, Jos would have to prise Jason out of Pierre’s arms as well. “I just want to talk.”

“Go on.”

“I want you to start talking to Max again,” Pierre said, sitting up a little straighter on the sofa, ignoring the twinge in his back. “I mean, I’m not here to tell you what to do, I just want you to know that Max misses you. He needs his Dad in his life; he shouldn’t have to lose out on seeing his little brother because of all this mess.”

“I agree. Blue keeps asking where Max is and I know Victoria is sick of being stuck in the middle of us,” Jos replied stiffly.

“And there’s no reason for you to keep blocking each other,” Pierre continued, his breath hitching at the stabbing between his shoulder blades. “All those things you thought would happen when Max came out, they didn’t happen, did they? Max didn’t lose his seat; he didn’t embarrass his team. He didn’t get torn apart by the media; your reputation wasn’t affected either. Nobody thinks less of you because your son is gay. It was big news for a few days and then the world moved on. It’s far more interesting to talk about Racing Point protesting Haas than it is to talk about Max’s sexuality.”

“I haven’t seen you on TV at the races recently,” Jos said. “Why haven’t you been travelling with Max?”

“I’ve been unwell,” Pierre explained. “I know you think I’m faking, or exaggerating, or whatever, but I haven’t. What I have, I’m not going to get better from anytime soon. Plus if I were faking it, wouldn’t it make more sense to fake something people would actually believe?”

Jason didn’t like the tension in Pierre and he wriggled out of his arms, letting out a loud shriek that had Sandy instantly crossing the room to scoop him up into her arms. She glared at Jos on her way back to her armchair. “If someone says they’re suffering, the best thing you can do is  _ believe them _ ,” she said pointedly.

Jos sighed and squeezed the bridge of his nose, waiting until Jason settled before continuing the conversation. “What do you want to happen next, Pierre?”

“I want you and Max to try and rebuild your relationship,” Pierre said. “Maybe you can get out to a race again this year. I’m not going to pretend like I know how you’re feeling, but if I was in your situation I would probably miss being at the track and I’d miss Max.”

“Does Max know you’re here?”

Pierre shook his head. “No, I didn’t tell him I was coming. But when I get home, I’ll tell him I came. What should I tell him you’ve said?”

“I’ll call him,” Jos said plainly.

“Thank you,” Pierre replied, trying a tentative smile. He took a slow breath through another stab of pain and fidgeted in his seat. “There’s one more thing. I want to propose to Max.”

Sandy’s eyes lit up and she smiled widely at Pierre. “Honey, that’s great news.”

“Hopefully,” Pierre replied quietly, looking to Jos for his response. He knew he’d never get an enthusiastic blessing from Jos, but he at least hoped for an acknowledgement. 

“What sort of life can you provide for him?” Jos asked coldly. “You’re not working. Will you ever work, or will Max pay for everything?”

“I have my own money,” Pierre replied, trying not to sound annoyed. “If Max stopped working tomorrow, I could afford to look after him. Honestly, I don’t know if I’ll work again. I can’t drive, but there are probably other things I could do. I’d provide a loving, stable home for Max. That’s the sort of life I’d give him.”

There was a long pause before Jos replied; Pierre could feel his heart rate quicken but he took several slow breaths to calm himself again. He felt dizzy and concentrated on looking at the back of Jos’s armchair for something still to reorient himself. He couldn’t let himself pass out in Jos’s apartment; Jos already thought he was weak and this would only prove his point.

“It’s weird,” Jos said, “you have children and you have all these hopes and dreams for them, and then they surprise you. I always hoped Max would do better than I did, settle down with a nice woman, but Max continues to surprise me. I don’t know if you want my permission or my blessing or what, but I don’t think it would make a difference. If Max wants something, he won’t listen to me. If you want to marry him and he wants that too, then I don’t have any objections. I’ve never heard him complain about you the way Victoria complains about her boyfriend.”

“Thank you,” Pierre replied softly. “I promise I’ll try my best to make him happy. I should go now; I’ve taken up too much of your time.”

“I’ll see you out,” Sandy offered, standing up and putting Jason down in Jos’s lap.

Pierre pushed himself up from the sofa and followed Sandy out to the hallway. He pulled on his shoes and then accepted a hug from Sandy before leaving the apartment. Pierre took the lift down to the ground floor and he left the apartment building, crossing the road and heading into the park on the other side where he found Pyry sitting on a bench waiting for him.

“How did it go?” Pyry asked, locking his phone and putting it back in his pocket.

“Well he didn’t shout at me,” Pierre replied, leaning forward and resting his head in his hands, his elbows propped up on his knees. “He agreed to call Max and talk. He also said he has no objections to me proposing, which I think is the closest thing I’ll ever get to a blessing from him.”

“That’s good,” Pyry said, reaching across with both his hands and squeezing Pierre’s shoulders. “Let me give you a little neck rub before we walk home. Your shoulders are rock solid.”


	25. "I don’t want to go back to the psych ward."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pierre stresses himself out; Charles has a rough birthday.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The first scene in this is a flashback to the aftermath of a sexual assault. If you'd rather not read that, do a search for "Pyry pulled open the door to the apartment" and start from there. Be gentle with yourselves.

Pierre tried his best to keep quiet as he snuck back into the house; Anthoine had always been a light sleeper and Pierre didn’t want to disturb him. He pulled his shoes off in the hallway and silently placed them on the shelf before creeping up the stairs.

“Pierre?” Anthoine asked sleepily, blocking Pierre’s path at the top of the stairs.

“Jesus, Tonio,” Pierre hissed. “You almost gave me a heart attack. Why are you awake at two o’clock in the morning?”

Anthoine shrugged and took a step closer to Pierre. “The real question is why is a 15-year-old walking around by himself at two o’clock in the morning? And, shit, is that blood? Come here.” Anthoine grabbed Pierre’s hand and dragged him down the hallway to the bathroom.

Pierre sat down on the edge of the bath and winced when Anthoine turned on the bright overhead light. He screwed his eyes shut after briefly seeing two of Anthoine and he gripped the edge of the bath so tightly that his knuckles turned white.

“What the hell have you been doing?” Anthoine asked, looking at the dried blood on Pierre’s top lip, the small cut in his forehead, and the red marks around his neck. “Weren’t you supposed to just be watching movies with Esteban tonight?”

“I need to be sick,” Pierre said, launching himself away from the bath and falling to his knees in front of the toilet. He pushed the seat up and retched hard, his stomach in knots.

Anthoine knelt down behind Pierre and gently rubbed his back through his t-shirt. “Whatever happened, it’s over now. You’re back with me, Pierre, and you’re safe. I’m going to take good care of you.”

“I can still taste him,” Pierre said weakly, sinking away from the toilet and into Anthoine’s open arms. “I tried to tell him no, but he didn’t listen to me. He wouldn’t let me stand up, he made me swallow everything and afterwards he just kept  _ hitting  _ me and I- fuck, Tonio-” Pierre hid his face against Anthoine’s t-shirt and broke down in tears.

“I’ve got you, Pierre,” Anthoine replied softly, holding Pierre close and rubbing his back again. “I’m going to make sure he never comes near you again, I promise. I’ll keep you safe from him.”

“I thought he’d changed,” Pierre whimpered, gripping the back of Anthoine’s t-shirt. “He’d been nice recently. I didn’t think he would do  _ this _ .”

\---

Pyry pulled open the door to the apartment and offered Charles a smile. “Hyvää syntymäpäivää,” he said, grinning more when Charles gave him a puzzled look in return. “Happy Birthday.”

“Oh! Thank you,” Charles replied, following Pyry into the apartment and kicking off his shoes. “I don’t think I’ve ever been wished a Happy Birthday in Finnish before.”

“There’s a first time for everything,” Pyry said, leading Charles through to the living room. “Pierre and I made you a cake yesterday; it’s in the fridge, maybe we’ll have it at lunch time.”

“How is he doing?” Charles asked, glancing at the closed bedroom door. “I had a text from him this morning but it was pretty short. He just said he’s feeling shit and asked to take a rain check on my birthday.”

“He’s having a bad day,” Pyry explained, sitting down on the sofa. “He was doing okay last week, but then he had a rough few days at therapy. He’s been talking a lot about Jules and Anthoine, I think it’s because Japan was last week. I think making the cake yesterday finished him off; he’s pushed himself too much and now he’s struggling.”

“With the pain?”

“Yeah, and the fatigue and the brain fog,” Pyry replied. “I think he’ll appreciate having some company and being able to speak his own language, but he’s in a pretty foul mood. I’d try not to take anything he says personally. He probably won’t remember it anyway.”

“I’ll be patient,” Charles said, taking a slow breath before knocking on the door to the bedroom. “Pierre?” he called out, pushing open the door and stepping inside. “How are you doing?”

“How does it look like I’m doing?” Pierre replied coldly, curling up into a smaller ball under the blankets.

“Can I lie down with you?” Charles asked tentatively, approaching Max’s side of the bed. “I don’t care if you don’t want to talk; I just want to be near you today. Is that okay?”

“Sure.” Pierre reached one hand up from under the covers and rubbed his eyes as he watched Charles curl up on the bed opposite him, mirroring his position. Pierre slid his hand back under the blankets and pulled them tighter around his neck; even with two blankets and the duvet cover, he still felt cold.

“Pyry said you’ve been talking about Jules and Anthoine,” Charles said softly.

“Pyry should keep his mouth shut,” Pierre retorted, glaring at Charles. “I talked about them enough at therapy; I don’t need to do it again with you.”

“We could talk about something else then?” Charles suggested. “What else have you been up to?”

“Besides crying and throwing up? Not much. Charles, I need to try and sleep. Pyry gave me the strongest painkillers I can have without supervision and they haven’t done anything for the pain, but they’re making me drowsy. I only slept for an hour last night.”

“Please, don’t let me stop you,” Charles replied gently. “I can entertain myself while you sleep. I’ll watch over you.”

“I don’t need you to watch over me,” Pierre protested, stifling a yawn. “I don’t need  _ anyone  _ to watch over me.”

“I want to,” Charles replied, resisting the urge to reach out and cuddle Pierre. “I’ll stop talking. Go to sleep.” Charles reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone, passing the time by scrolling through instagram.

\---

“Pyry, I need you in here!”

Pyry’s head snapped up from his book when he heard the panic in Charles’s voice and he climbed off the sofa, rushing through to the bedroom. Pierre was on his hands and knees on the floor, his chin down against his chest. Charles was knelt on the floor next to him, his hand pressed against Pierre’s back in a futile attempt to try and comfort him.

“He’s not saying anything that makes sense,” Charles said, looking up at Pyry. “What do we do?”

Pyry crouched down on the floor in front of Pierre; it was only when he got closer that he could hear how ragged Pierre’s breathing was. “Look at me, Pierre,” he said calmly. “Can you tell me how your pain is?”

Pierre shook his head and dropped his chin back to his chest, rocking himself slightly.

“Okay, it’s okay,” Pyry said, glancing across at Charles. “Charles is going to call an ambulance and we’ll get you some help.”

“No!” Pierre cried, lunging at Charles and grabbing his phone out of his hands. Pierre fell onto his side and gripped Charles’s phone weakly against his chest. “Please, no hospital. I don’t want to go back to the psych ward.”

“You won’t go back to the psych ward,” Pyry replied calmly. “You need the emergency department; they’ll be able to help with your pain levels.”

“No, you’re lying,” Pierre protested. “Last time you called an ambulance, they accused me of making it up. They accused me of being an addict. I don’t  _ want  _ any more drugs!”

“What do you want, Pierre?” Charles asked, rubbing tears out of his eyes. “Tell us how to help you.”

“I want  _ Max _ ,” Pierre choked out. He threw Charles’s phone back at him and then pushed himself up onto all fours. “If you can’t get Max, you can both fuck off.”

“ _ Fine _ ,” Charles snapped, grabbing his phone and heading out of the room, rubbing his eyes again.

“Charles, wait.” Pyry followed closely after Charles, catching his hand and stopping him in the hallway. 

“He told me to fuck off so that’s what I’m doing,” Charles said, tugging his hand free and pulling on his shoes. Charles turned to the front door and sighed heavily, resting his forehead against it. “Fucking hell, Pyry.”

Pyry reached out and squeezed Charles’s shoulder. “I need you to call for an ambulance,” he asked. “I can’t do that and try and care for Pierre. You could wait for them downstairs and show them up here when they arrive. Can you do that for me, Charles?”

“He said he doesn’t want to go to hospital,” Charles mumbled, pressing closed fists against the door.

“I know what he said,” Pyry replied, “but he needs more help than we can give him.”

“Okay.” Charles stood up straight and pulled his phone out of his pocket, dialling the number for the emergency services. “I’ll wait downstairs; it’s fucking ripping me apart hearing him like this. I’m sorry.”

Pyry watched Charles hurry out of the apartment and then Pyry returned to the bedroom where Pierre was curled up on his side on the floor, hugging his arms around his chest. “Where’s Max?” he gasped between sobs.

“He’s at the factory,” Pyry explained, pulling a pillow and a blanket down from the bed. He delicately lifted Pierre’s head and slid the pillow underneath before draping the blanket over him. “Max flies back tomorrow. You’ve just got me and Charles today.”

“I can’t breathe.”

“I know you’re struggling,” Pyry replied sympathetically, reaching down with two hands and gently tilting Pierre’s head up to keep his airway as open as possible. “And I know you don’t want to go to hospital. Charles is downstairs waiting for the ambulance; I know you’re scared, but I’m going to make sure they believe you.  _ I  _ believe you, Pierre. I believe you’re hurting.”

“I want Max,” Pierre whimpered. He reached a hand out from under the blanket and screwed his eyes shut when Pyry took it. 

“Max will be here tomorrow,” Pyry replied, leaning down and kissing the back of Pierre’s knuckles. “I’ll make sure you’re not on your own until then. I’ll keep you safe, I promise.”

\---

When Pierre woke up in the hospital, he found Lorenzo sitting on a plastic chair next to his bed. Pierre fidgeted slightly, glancing at the IV in his arm, but otherwise made no effort to move. His head was spinning and the past few hours were a blur in his memory. He vaguely remembered shouting at Charles, and he remembered Charles shouting at the paramedics.

“Hey sleepyhead,” Lorenzo said, pulling his chair slightly closer to the bed. “How are you feeling?”

“Numb,” Pierre replied, licking his lips because his mouth felt dry like sandpaper. “Where’s Pyry?”

“He stepped out for a coffee,” Lorenzo explained. “You’ve been asleep for a while; it’s pretty late now.”

“Where’s Charles?”

“When I left, he was halfway through a second bottle of wine with his mum,” Lorenzo replied, reaching out and caressing Pierre’s cheek. “He’s pretty upset; he said you didn’t even wish him a happy birthday.”

“Fuck.”

“I mean, he  _ will  _ get over it,” Lorenzo continued, stilling his fingers. “He was here earlier, but Pyry sent him home. You kept drifting in and out of sleep; there was nothing Charles could do to help. Charles went home to his mum’s; Arthur called me, and here I am.”

“Do you know when  _ I  _ will be allowed home?” Pierre asked shyly. “I want to see Charles.”

“I don’t know, sleepyhead,” Lorenzo replied, moving to sit back in his chair. “There was some talk about keeping you in overnight for observation, apparently your blood pressure was low, but I don’t know if they’re still worried about that. I’m sure Charles will want to see you; he doesn’t exactly have many friends.”

“I didn’t forget it was his birthday,” Pierre said, pulling himself up into a sitting position in the bed. The room spun slightly but soon settled and Pierre rubbed his eyes, screwing his face up at the tube sticking out of his arm. “I’m not trying to be a bad friend.”

“Nobody said you’re a bad friend,” Lorenzo said gently, reaching out and putting his hand on Pierre’s arm. “You’re a good friend to Charles. Today was just a bad day, that’s all. He wanted you; you wanted Max. Instead, he’s got wine and you’ve got me.”

“Thank you,” Pierre whispered, lifting his other hand and placing it on top of Lorenzo’s.

\---

Max turned his key in the lock to the apartment and pushed the door open, dragging his suitcase inside before quietly closing the door and pulling off his shoes. He hadn’t immediately been ambushed by anyone, so assumed that Pyry and Pierre were either out, or asleep.

Max stepped further into the apartment and heard the sound of Pyry’s shower running. Max found Pierre and Charles asleep on the sofa in the living room; Pierre was on his back with Charles sprawled over the top of him, Pierre’s arms wrapped protectively around his back. Max grabbed a blanket from the armchair and carefully draped it over Pierre and Charles before going to the kitchen in search of something to eat.

In the fridge, Max found a birthday cake with several slices missing. Craving the sugar, he helped himself to a slice and returned to the living room, collapsing into the armchair and forking the sticky chocolate fudge cake into his mouth. Pierre and Charles both looked peaceful and Max watched them as he ate the cake.

Pierre stirred a few minutes later, tightening his grip on Charles while he tried to work out where the blanket had come from. He looked around the room and when his eyes met Max’s, he smiled widely. “Hey,” he whispered, not wanting to disturb Charles.

“Hey you too,” Max beamed, cradling his empty plate in his lap. “How are you? I heard you had a rough couple of days. I’m sorry I couldn’t get back earlier.”

“It’s okay,” Pierre replied. “You’re here now.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter is going to see some positivity, but then there's a really dark chapter coming, and then after that it'll get more positive again, I promise. This is such a rollercoaster of a fic. Thank you for reading this far. <3


	26. "Pierre can speak for himself"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was supposed to be one big, long chapter but I've broken it up and I'll post it in smaller chunks so that the updates will be more frequent. The next few chapters will all be set over the Brazilian GP weekend.
> 
> Thank you for your patience. <3

“Are you  _ sure  _ you don’t mind us going without you?” Lando asked, taking both of Pierre’s hands in his and squeezing them lovingly. It was the Friday of the Brazilian Grand Prix and Lando was celebrating his 21st birthday.

“Yes, as long as  _ you  _ don’t mind me not going,” Pierre replied playfully, kissing Lando’s cheek. “It’s not that I don’t want to go; I do, but I need to stay here and rest. My battery doesn’t last as long as yours.”

“I want you to come too,” Lando said, “but I know you need to rest. We’ll try to be gentle with Max and Pyry for you; we’ll get Max back early enough to go to bed.”

“Lando, come on!”

Lando rolled his eyes as Carlos called to him from the doorway to Pierre’s hotel room. Lando threw his arms around Pierre and hugged him quickly before wishing him peaceful rest and flitting out of the room to join the rest of the group.

The six of them went to a mini-golf course that was walkable from the hotel and they played in three teams of two - Carlos and Lando, Max and Daniel, Pyry and Charles. Max and Daniel took it far too seriously and won; Carlos kept distracting Lando and causing him to miss his shots, and Pyry and Charles spent the evening trying to work out if they were flirting with each other or not.

Because it was a Friday night and they all had to be up early to get to the track on Saturday and because Lando was teetotal, the night finished fairly early and the group made their way back to the hotel. Carlos and Lando were first out of the lift, followed by Max on the next floor and Daniel two floors above that.

Pyry glanced at the one lit up number in the lift and then at Charles. “You’re on 14 as well?”

“Yeah, 1407,” Charles replied, pulling his key card out of his pocket. 

The lift came to a stop and the two of them stepped out. Charles played with his key card between his fingers as the two of them walked down the corridor. Charles hesitated outside his room and turned to Pyry. “This is me,” he said, holding his key against the lock until it turned green, and then pushing the door open slightly. “Did you want to come-”

Charles barely had a chance to finish his question before Pyry shoved him inside the room. Charles laughed as he fumbled with the key, sliding it into the holder on the wall to turn on the power to the room. As the lights came on and the door clicked shut, Pyry pushed Charles up against the door and kissed him hard.

Charles kissed Pyry back and clawed at his t-shirt, breaking the kiss only long enough to get Pyry’s shirt over his head and when Pyry moved his hands down to the back of Charles’s thighs, Charles jumped up and wrapped his legs around Pyry’s waist. Pyry carried him over to the bed and threw him down on the mattress, crawling on top of him and reaching one hand down between Charles’s legs.

Charles dragged his hands up over the muscles on Pyry’s back and he lifted himself up so that Pyry could get his shirt off over his head. Pyry threw Charles’s t-shirt over the side of the bed and then grabbed Charles’s wrists, holding his hands against his chest. Pyry moved to pin both of Charles’s wrists with one of his hands and with his other hand he reached down and unzipped Charles’s jeans.

Charles gasped as Pyry moved his hand inside his boxers and he roughly pulled his hands free from Pyry’s grip. Charles propped himself up on his elbows and threw his head back, moaning loudly as Pyry kissed his neck. “That feels so good.”

Pyry hesitated when he felt his phone vibrating in the pocket on his jeans and he let go of Charles, moving to perch on the edge of the bed as he answered the call. Charles bit his lip and rolled onto his side, curling around Pyry and caressing the small of his back.

Pyry ended the call and turned his attention back to Charles, reaching one hand down and brushing his fingers through Charles’s hair. “I’ve got to go; Pierre needs me.”

“Is he okay?” Charles asked, curling himself towards Pyry’s touch.

“Trouble sleeping, that’s all,” Pyry replied. “He needs some massage.”

“You should go then,” Charles said, scooting away from Pyry and wriggling out of his jeans. 

“Is that okay?” Pyry checked, pulling his t-shirt back over his head as he watched Charles play with himself.

“Of course!” Charles beamed. “I would never try and stop you helping Pierre, not  _ ever _ . I can finish here on my own. I’ll be thinking of you the whole time.”

Pyry smirked and knelt on the edge of the bed, leaning over Charles and kissing him again. “Enjoy your evening,” he said, tickling his fingers over Charles’s stomach before pulling away completely. “I’ll see you at the track tomorrow.”

Pyry left Charles’s room and made his way back into the lift, using the time to calm himself down and get back into work mode. When he got to Max and Pierre’s room, his cool demeanour was back and Max was grateful that he’d gotten there so quickly.

“Pierre said his back is hurting,” Max explained, ushering Pyry into the room.

“Pierre can speak for himself,” Pierre said tiredly, gripping the bed sheets next to where he was perched on the edge of the bed. He rubbed his toes against the carpet and peered up at Pyry. “My back hurts where I broke it a few years ago,” he explained, “and I can’t find a comfortable position to sleep in so now my neck hurts too.”

“Let’s see what we can do,” Pyry said, stepping over to the massage chair on the other side of the room. He adjusted it slightly from Max’s height to Pierre’s height and then gestured for Pierre to take a seat. “I just need to wash my hands.”

Pierre pushed himself up from the bed and hobbled over to the massage chair. “Max, can you help me get my t-shirt off?” he asked quietly, wincing when Max helped him pull his t-shirt off over his head. 

Pyry returned from the bathroom and frowned at Pierre’s back. “I can see the problem from here,” he said, crossing the room and rubbing his hands together to warm them up. “The pain is worse all down your left side, yes?” Pyry worked his hands over the knots in Pierre’s muscles, “tell me if I’m using too much pressure.”

“No, it’s okay,” Pierre replied through gritted teeth, screwing his eyes shut as he tried his best to relax. His muscles were screaming but he knew if he could stay still long enough, Pyry would help to ease the worst of the pain. Maybe he’d be able to get some sleep as well.


	27. "If I leave now, it would feel like I’m running away."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Content warning - sexual assault. Be gentle with yourselves. <3

Pierre ducked out of the heat of the paddock and made his way down the cool brick corridor to the bathrooms. It was the end of qualifying and he’d spent some of the session talking to Sky Italia, offering his thoughts on how the weekend was going. Charles had been fastest in Friday’s two practice sessions but had crashed at the end of third practice, causing him to miss the qualifying session. Max had fared better in qualifying, finishing the session in fourth place behind Vettel and the two Mercedes drivers.

Pierre turned on the tap at the sink and held his wrists under the cold stream of water, sighing as he felt himself start to cool down after so long stood outside in the heat. He felt lightheaded having not had a drink since he’d started filming with Sky, so he knew his destination after leaving the bathroom would be the Red Bull motorhome for a drink and a sit down.

Pierre ran his hands under the sink and then leant down to splash the cold water all the way up to his elbows. Eventually, he turned the tap off and grabbed a paper towel to dry himself off. Tossing the towel into the bin, he turned to leave and found Esteban standing in the doorway.

“Hey Pierre,” Esteban said politely, brushing past Pierre and stepping further into the bathroom. “I haven’t seen you at a race in a while. Where have you been?”

“Around,” Pierre replied, shrugging. “You know how it is.”

“That crash at Zandvoort really fucked you up, I guess?” Esteban replied nonchalantly, washing his hands in the sink. “What are these long term health issues you have? Is your anxiety back?”

“No.”

“Oh, I  _ see _ ,” Esteban grinned. “You’re too scared to get back in the car. That’s weird; I always thought Max would want someone who isn’t such a big pussy-”

“Fuck off, Esteban,” Pierre retorted. “You have no idea what you’re talking about. I don’t need to listen to this.” Pierre turned around to leave the bathroom and cried out when Esteban shoved him up against the closed door.

Esteban turned Pierre around and Pierre’s breath caught in his throat as he found himself trapped between Esteban and the door. He met Esteban’s dark gaze and swallowed down the lump in his throat. 

Esteban pressed himself up against Pierre and kissed him hard on the lips. Pierre tried his best to keep his mouth clamped shut but when Esteban gripped his jaw roughly, curling his fingers into Pierre’s cheek, Pierre gasped in pain and gagged when he felt Esteban’s tongue inside his mouth.

Esteban slid his other hand under Pierre’s shirt, scratching his fingers up the side of Pierre’s ribs and Pierre pushed weakly against Esteban’s shoulders, trying desperately to turn his head away. Pierre managed to kick Esteban in the shin, distracting him for long enough to give a more powerful shove against his shoulders and Esteban staggered backwards.

Pierre turned on his heels and ripped open the door to the bathroom, stumbling out into the dark tunnel. He pressed his hands against the brick to keep himself upright as he slowly made his way out to the paddock. He was almost out of the tunnel when Esteban grabbed a fistful of hair on the back of his head and yanked him backwards so far that he lost his balance.

Esteban pulled Pierre backward, jamming his elbow between Pierre’s shoulder blades to stop him from falling completely and he gripped Pierre’s jaw in his other hand, kissing him again. “You still want me,” he snarled, “just like you did when you were a teenager.”

“Get the fuck off me.”

“You’re still a whore,” Esteban laughed, grinning more when Pierre fell down to the floor, his head smacking against the concrete. “But it’s okay; I would never go anywhere near Max’s sloppy seconds.” Esteban kicked Pierre in the stomach and then slinked away, disappearing back into the busy paddock.

Pierre slowly rolled onto his side, reaching a hand through his hair to check his scalp for blood. He pulled his hand away dry and then carefully pushed himself up to his feet. His vision was blurred but he blinked several times to clear it. Feeling dizzy, he took a big breath and stepped out into the paddock.

The heat hit Pierre hard and he curled his hands into fists as he made his way through the narrow paddock. When he got to the Ferrari motorhome, he saw Pyry outside talking to Sebastian’s trainer. Pierre approached them and put his hand on Pyry’s arm. Tugging on it, he leant in close to Pyry’s ear and whispered, “get me somewhere safe.”

Pyry immediately excused himself from his conversation with Antti and guided Pierre back to the Red Bull motorhome. Once inside, Pyry helped Pierre up the stairs to the driver rooms and then into Max’s room. Pierre collapsed onto the sofa and tucked his knees to his chest, curling against the arm of the sofa. “Can you find Max for me, please?”

“Of course,” Pyry replied. “Will you be okay here on your own for two minutes?”

“Yes.” Pierre closed his eyes but opened them immediately again when he saw the bathroom behind his eyelids. He reached one hand up and wiped his mouth on the back of his arm, retching slightly against the contact. He fidgeted on the sofa, reaching his arms down and hugging himself around his stomach, frowning hard.

“What’s happening, sweet?” Max asked as he came bounding into the room, Pyry following closely behind. “Are you okay?”

“Not really,” Pierre murmured, flinching when Max tried to hug him. “Sorry,” he apologised, fidgeting again.

“Is your pain bad this afternoon?” Max asked tentatively, moving to kneel in front of Pierre. “Do you want to go back to the hotel?”

Pierre shook his head and uncurled himself, reaching out and cupping Max’s face in his hands. “I love you so much,” he whispered, “please don’t ever forget that.”

“I know,” Max replied, putting his hands on top of Pierre’s. “I won’t ever forget it. I love you too. What’s going on, sweet?”

Before Pierre had a chance to answer, there was a knock at the door. Pyry opened it and found Charles on the other side, a desperate look on his face. “Is Pierre in here?” Charles asked, trying to see past Pyry into the room.

Pyry opened the door wider so Charles could come inside and then he closed the door behind him, glancing back at Pierre for some sort of sign that he was injured in some way. Pierre was sitting in a way that was clearly carrying tension but he didn’t have any obvious injuries; he wasn’t bleeding. If anything, he just seemed wound up.

“Pierre,” Charles said quickly, using French not to deliberately exclude Max but because he was panicking. “I just saw Esteban. He said some crazy things; he talked about your lip balm. What happened with him?”

“I don’t want to talk about,” Pierre said, pushing past Max and standing up. “You need to go, Charles. I don’t feel well; I need to rest.”

“He said you kissed him,” Charles pressed him. “But that can’t be true, can it? Why were you even alone with him?”

“Just  _ fuck off _ ,” Pierre snapped, lunging at Charles. Max grabbed him from behind and pulled him backwards as Pyry pulled Charles away too. “Fuck off, Charles!” Pierre shouted again, feeling too weak to fight Max. “You took his side when I was fifteen and you’re doing it again now. I hate this. You’re supposed to be my best friend; how dare you question me?!”

“Pyry, get him out of here,” Max said, turning Pierre away from Charles and hugging him close as he burst into tears. Max still didn’t speak much french but he understood ‘Esteban’ and ‘fuck off’. 

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” Max soothed, rubbing Pierre’s back as the two of them sat down on the sofa. “Charles is gone. It’s just you and me here now. It’s okay; you’re safe. You’re so safe, Pierre.”

Pierre curled against Max and buried his face against Max’s shoulder, screaming into the thick fabric of his race suit. His hands were shaking and he felt dizzy, but Max filled all his senses and Pierre believed Max when he said he was safe.

“I’m right here,” Max said softly, stilling his hands against Pierre’s back and kissing the top of his head. “Take your time, sweet; I’ve got you.”

Pierre pulled away from Max and furiously rubbed his eyes, choking down the last of his sobs as he started to settle. “I hate him so much.”

“Who, Charles?” Max asked tentatively, not sure what would have caused Pierre to declare he hated his best friend.

“No, he’s just being an idiot,” Pierre explained, rubbing his eyes again. “I’m talking about Esteban. I don’t even have words for how he makes me feel. My skin is crawling and I’m so fucking angry.”

“What do you want to do?” Max asked gently. He reached out and squeezed Pierre’s leg, glad when Pierre didn’t shy away from him. “Do you want to talk about it? Do you want to go back to the hotel? Tell me what you need.”

“I don’t want to go back to the hotel,” Pierre replied, staring at the floor. “If I leave now, it would feel like I’m running away. I don’t need to run away. I fucking deserve to be here, just like everyone else, you know? If I run away, he wins. If I run away, they all win. Everyone who thinks I’m too scared to get back in the car, I hate all of them. I’m not scared.”

“I don’t think you’re scared,” Max said, nodding his head in agreement. “Not at all.”

“And it’s not like I  _ wanted  _ to be alone with him,” Pierre continued. “It’s not like I  _ invited  _ him. You know I would never do that, right? I love  _ you _ , not anyone else. I don’t want to ever be with anyone else ever. It’s only you, Max, it’s always you. It will always be you.”

“I know,” Max responded, glad that Pierre was talking and not clamming up. “Can you tell me what happened with Esteban?”

Pierre frowned at the floor and wrung his hands together in his lap, taking a slow breath. “I’m thirsty,” he said, lifting his head to look around the room and see if there was anything he could drink.

Max stood up from the sofa and fetched a bottle of water from the stack in the corner of the room, unscrewing the lid as he returned to the sofa. 

Pierre accepted the bottle and gulped down half of it before holding the bottle in his lap. “I used one of the bathrooms in the paddock after qualifying. You know I was filming with Sky Italia. It was a lot of fun but I got quite hot, so I washed my hands and arms with cold water to try and cool myself down, you know?”

Max nodded in understanding, not wanting to speak and interrupt Pierre’s chain of thought. He listened attentively as Pierre continued.

“Esteban came in and he was a prick like he always is. He talked about my crash at Zandvoort and asked about my anxiety. I think I might have told him to fuck off. I tried to leave and he grabbed me. I was too shocked at first; I didn’t realise what he was doing until he kissed me. I tried to fight him, but he was all over me; he had one hand up my shirt and he squeezed my face so tight and I couldn’t breathe.” 

Pierre took another sip from the bottle, his fingers trembling. Pierre put the lid back on the bottle and stood up, pacing across the room. “Eventually I got him off me, and I ran out, but I was dizzy and he caught me. He grabbed my hair-” Pierre ran one hand over the back of his head, still not feeling blood where Esteban had grabbed him. “-and he threw me on the ground and kicked me. He left after that and I don’t know if I passed out or if I stayed conscious. I don’t remember how I got back here.”

Max stood up from the sofa and reached for Pierre’s hand, holding it gently in his. “Pyry came and found me,” he explained. “You came back here with Pyry.”

“I saw him at the Ferrari garage,” Pierre said, frowning down at his hand in Max’s. “I don’t remember what I said to him.”

“We can ask him when he comes back,” Max replied, trying to sound reassuring. “Thank you for telling me what happened with Esteban.”

“You still love me, right?” Pierre asked sadly, meeting Max’s gaze.

“What? Of course I do,” Max replied, wrapping both of his arms around Pierre’s shoulders and cuddling him close. “I love you more than anything. I’m  _ so  _ sorry for what Esteban did to you. I want to kick his head in.”

“Me too,” Pierre agreed, nuzzling his face against Max’s collarbone. “I hate him so much.”

“I’ll support you, whatever you need,” Max said, kissing the top of Pierre’s head. “If you want to go to the police, or fly home, or stay here, or whatever, I’ll support you the best I can.”

Pierre pressed himself closer to Max and screwed his eyes shut. “I want to go back to the hotel,” he said quietly. “I want to lie down and not have to move until tomorrow. I want some food. I want to brush my teeth and take a fucking shower and scrub myself until I can’t feel  _ him  _ anymore. I want to punch something.”

“We’ll find Pyry,” Max said, pulling away from Pierre and guiding him back to the sofa. “He can take you back to the hotel and get you some food. I’ll come back as soon as I can and I’ll cuddle you all night if that’s what you want. Or if you want some space, I can do that too. Whatever you need, okay?”

Pierre nodded and curled to the side, resting his head on the arm of the sofa. “I just want to sleep,” he murmured, folding his legs beneath him and closing his eyes. “I’m exhausted.”

\---

Max slid his key card through the lock and quietly opened the door to his hotel room, trying to make as little noise as possible as he closed the door behind him and dumped his bag and shoes in the hallway. The room was dimly lit with lamps and Max could see that Pierre was already asleep, the blankets moving as he breathed.

Max stepped further into the room and found Pyry sitting in an armchair, mindlessly scrolling through his phone while keeping one eye fixed on Pierre. Max perched on the arm of the sofa and pulled his feet up onto the seat cushion. “How is he doing?” he whispered.

“About as well as you’d expect,” Pyry replied quietly. “He told me everything on the drive back; what happened today, and what happened in the past. He had dinner, he had a long shower, he had a panic attack, but he’s resting now. He’s been asleep for nearly an hour. How are  _ you _ ?”

“I’m a mess, I think,” Max said, chewing on his lip as he glanced at Pierre. “What am I supposed to do? I want to put him on the next flight back to Monaco, and don’t even ask me what I want to do to Esteban. Pierre said he wants to stay here, though, and I have to support him on that. Did he say what happened with Charles? I didn’t understand much of what they said.”

“He thinks Charles blames him for what happened,” Pyry explained. “Apparently when they were younger, Charles was always close with Esteban. It took him a while to believe Pierre’s side of things.”

“Charles doesn’t blame him though, does he?”

Pyry shook his head. “No. Charles is just frustrated with himself for thinking that Esteban might have changed. It’s hard when you want to see the good in people and they keep disappointing you.”

“I guess,” Max murmured, glancing over at Pierre. “Can you stay here for a little while?” he asked gently. “I won’t ask you to stay the whole night; I know you need to rest too. Can you just stay here for a little while though - until I fall asleep as well? If Pierre wakes up, I don’t know if I can handle this on my own.”

“Of course,” Pyry replied. “I’ll stay as long as you need.”

“Just until you hear me start snoring,” Max said, offering Pyry a weak smile as he clambered off the sofa. Max plugged his phone into the charging cable on the bedside table and then stripped to his boxers, crawling under the covers. He curled up on his side facing Pierre and watched him for a few moments before closing his eyes. Max felt Pierre reach for his hand and Max laced their fingers together, gently kissing Pierre’s knuckles before settling down for sleep. They just had race day to get through before Max could take Pierre home to Monaco.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wash your hands! And practice PHYSICAL distancing, not SOCIAL distancing. Isolation isn't good for anyone - call your friends, teach your parents to use video chat, interact with people. Just don't lick them or breathe on them. <3


	28. "You’d better have good life insurance."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sunday race day in Brazil. Max and Charles have a "fuck I did mistakes" moment.

Pyry watched Pierre like a hawk all day. He was getting better at judging Pierre’s pain levels just by looking at him; by the tiny changes in the way he sat and the way he carried himself and how much he fidgeted and how halted his speech was. Pyry had always been able to tell which of Pierre’s smiles were genuine and which were for media purposes, and recently he’d learned how Pierre smiled to mask his pain.

There was no smile that could mask Pierre’s stress levels though when they watched the  _ red flag  _ graphic appear on the television in the Red Bull hospitality unit a few laps before the end of the race. Shards of carbon fibre were sent flying across the track along with bits of wing and even a wheel as Max’s dark blue car collided with Charles’s bright red Ferrari. Charles was slammed off to the side directly into the barriers, spinning him round as his car disintegrated around him, whereas Max was launched up into the air. He landed heavily on his roll cage and his car flipped over several times before coming to a rest upside down against the barrier.

Pyry grabbed Pierre’s hand and quickly led him away from the busy hospitality dining area into the seclusion of Max’s driver room, closing the door and locking it behind them.

“Pyry, what are you doing?” Pierre asked, trying to reach around Pyry to open the door. “I can’t stay in here; I have to go to the medical centre, or  _ something _ . I have to see them.” He didn’t realise he was already hyperventilating, his panic attack sneaking up on him through the distraction of witnessing the crash.

“You asked me to keep you safe,” Pyry replied calmly. “You told me it’s my job to protect you. Please, Pierre, let me do my job. Let me keep you safe.”

Pierre shook his head and tried to reach past Pyry again; his knees gave out as he choked on his breath. Feeling dizzy, he collapsed into Pyry’s arms and grabbed weakly at Pyry’s t-shirt. “I have to see them.”

“Soon. I promise,” Pyry replied, guiding Pierre over to the sofa. He helped Pierre to sit down and then lifted his legs up, placing his ankles over the arm of the sofa to get his legs higher than his heart.

“Pyry, where did you go?” Pierre whimpered, pressing his hands into the sofa and trying to push himself up.

“Ssh, stay still, I’m here,” Pyry said, kneeling down next to Pierre. He gently rubbed Pierre’s chest and smiled sadly when Pierre put both his hands on top of his. “I’m right here. Let’s get your breathing back under control, yeah?”

“I can’t.”

“Yes you can,” Pyry replied softly. “I’m right here. I’m keeping you safe. You’re so safe here, Pierre. Nothing bad is going to happen to you.”

“But Max-”

“-Max is with the Doctors. So’s Charles. The medical team are looking after them, and I’m looking after you.” Pyry lifted his other hand and brushed his fingers through Pierre’s hair. “You’re safe, Pierre. It’s just you and me here.”

\---

Pyry pulled open the door to Max’s driver room to see who was knocking, and he relaxed when he found Lando standing wide-eyed in front of him. Pyry pulled the door open further and ushered Lando inside before closing the door again. 

“How’s he doing?” Lando asked, adjusting his bag on his shoulder and glancing over at Pierre. Pierre was sprawled out on the sofa on his back, headphones on his ears and a sleeping mask covering his eyes.

“Not great,” Pyry replied, fiddling with Pierre’s phone in his hands. “He’s listening to white noise right now, just trying to stay calm. What I want to do is take him back to the hotel, but I can’t do that on my own.”

“I could help?” Lando offered. “I mean, I’m free to leave the track now whenever. Do you have a car? I could help keep Pierre distracted if that’s what you need. Or I could drive, or whatever. There’s fuck all I can do at the hospital, and Carlos is already on his way to the airport for some stupid thing back in Spain. I’d rather not be on my own, so if I can be any help to you, really, I want to.”

“I think you can be a big help,” Pyry said, offering Lando a smile before turning his attention to Pierre’s phone. It was already in aeroplane mode to keep all the notifications away and Pyry slowly turned down the volume on Pierre’s white noise soundtrack.

Pierre fidgeted on the sofa and pulled off his headphones and sleeping mask, dropping it on the floor because his grip was weak. When he saw Lando, he pushed himself up into a sitting position and rubbed his eyes. “Have you heard any news?”

Lando nervously looked to Pyry for permission to update Pierre and when Pyry nodded, Lando perched on the edge of the sofa next to Pierre. “Alex and Seb have gone to the hospital and so have Horner and Binotto. Daniel’s gone to the hospital as well; I’m sure he’ll call us later with a proper update. As far as I know, they’re just doing checks and tests and stuff; being extra cautious because all the warnings went off on the car, the g-force sensors and stuff.”

“How long were they trapped in their cars?” Pierre asked, wringing his hands together. “I didn’t see anything after the red flag.”

“They picked the right place to crash, right opposite the pit lane,” Lando replied. “The medical teams were already there before I even got back to the pits after the red flag. Max’s car was upside down but he crawled out of it by himself and got into the medical car. The extraction team got Charles out but he gave everyone a thumbs up as they put him in the back of the ambulance.”

“So they were both conscious?” Pierre clarified. “That’s good. I haven’t seen an accident like that in a long time; there was so much debris.”

“Yeah, it was crazy,” Lando agreed. “But our cars are designed to fall apart, right? With all the speed and stuff, the car breaks apart to save the driver. I’m sure they’ll both be home soon; you know how paranoid doctors can be, especially when the sensors go off on the car.”

“I hope you’re right,” Pierre said, hugging himself and looking up at Pyry. “Are we going to the hospital or are we going back to the hotel?”

“I’d like to take you back to the hotel,” Pyry replied. “If that’s okay? The hospital will be busy and uncomfortable, and I think Max and Charles would both be okay if you got some rest instead of visiting them tonight.”

Pierre hesitated for a moment before replying. “Who did you say was at the hospital with them?”

“Daniel’s there with them; they’re definitely not on their own,” Lando replied, trying his best to sound reassuring. “Alex and Seb are there too, and so are their team bosses. I’m sure they’re already bickering about whose fault the crash was.”

“Is it clear?”

“I’d call it a racing incident, but I’m not a steward,” Lando shrugged. “Either way, I don’t think there’ll be any penalties. It’s not like either of them  _ benefitted  _ from the crash.”

Pierre sighed and reached his hands up, dragging his fingers through his hair. “Who’s at the hospital with them?”

“I just told you,” Lando replied gently, looking up at Pyry for guidance on how best to respond to Pierre. “Daniel’s there with them; he’s going to call us later.”

Pyry crossed the room and crouched down in front of Pierre, reaching out and delicately taking his hand. “It’s time to go back to the hotel now, Pierre,” he said calmly, before standing up and helping Pierre to his feet. “Lando’s going to come with us.”

\---

“Pierre, wake up,” Lando said, squeezing Pierre’s shoulder. The two of them were curled up together in Pierre and Max’s hotel room, Pierre clinging to Lando like he was a giant hot water bottle. “Daniel’s here.”

Pierre stirred and mumbled something incoherent into Lando’s shoulder before rubbing his eyes and letting himself adjust to the light of the room. Feeling cold, he snuggled in closer to Lando before realising that Daniel was also in the room. Pierre sat up, careful not to kick Lando as he pulled the blankets higher round his chest.

“Hey you, how’s it going?” Daniel asked warmly, perching on the edge of the mattress. Pyry sat down on the sofa across the room, not wanting Pierre to feel crowded.

“I’m okay,” Pierre replied, rubbing his eyes and stifling a yawn. “Tell me about Max and Charles. Did you see them? Are they okay?”

“They’re fine.”

“Don’t lie to me!” Pierre snapped, startling even himself with his outburst. He sighed, tensing slightly when Lando put his arm around his shoulder. “I’m sorry I snapped,” he said quietly. “Fucking hell.”

“Mate, it’s okay, really,” Daniel said sympathetically. “If they were  _ fine _ , they’d be here with you, right? I wasn’t trying to lie to you; I just meant that they’re both doing okay for people who are in the hospital.”

“Injuries?” Pierre asked, swallowing down the lump in his throat.

“Max has a mild concussion,” Daniel explained. “He was a bit confused after the crash and he was aggressive with the medical team, but we don’t know how much of that is from hitting his head and how much of that is just  _ Max _ , you know? He’s calm now though; he’s resting. He doesn’t remember the crash. They’re keeping him overnight for observation but he’ll be able to come home in the-”

“- _ stop _ ,” Pierre interrupted, clamping his hands over his ears. “You’re talking too fast; I can’t understand you. Where’s Pyry?”

“I’m here.” Pyry crossed the room and sat down on the edge of the bed next to Pierre, gesturing at Lando and Daniel to move back slightly. “I’m here, Pierre, look at me.”

Pierre took a big breath and lowered his hands to Pyry’s forearm, gripping him weakly. “I can’t do this,” he said quietly. “I’m trying to listen but none of it makes sense. I’m trying to understand Max and Charles being in the hospital and I can’t even remember if we had fucking dinner or not. My head is totally destroyed from this weekend. I just want to  _ sleep _ .”

“You can sleep, Pierre, it’s okay,” Pyry said, standing up and pulling down the bed covers. “Come on, lie back down. Do you want Lando to stay with you? He’s left the track with you and has been here the whole time.”

“Yes, if that’s okay?”

“It’s fine,” Lando replied warmly, scooching under the covers next to Pierre. “We can totally sleep.”

“Get some rest,” Pyry said, smoothing Pierre’s hair out of his eyes and pulling the blankets up to his neck. “You’re safe. Max and Charles are safe.” Pyry watched Pierre for a few moments and gave Lando a reassuring smile before leading Daniel over to the door.

“I’m sorry,” Daniel apologised, “I wasn’t trying to overwhelm him.”

“It’s okay,” Pyry replied. “It’s not just the crash that gave him a rough weekend.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, but it’s not my place to talk about it,” Pyry said. “You said Max is likely to come home tomorrow?”

Daniel nodded, “yes, that’s the plan. Charles too. He was complaining about neck and back pain so they’ve given him every scan they have and he has no obvious injuries. He had some trouble breathing but that calmed down too, so they’re just observing him as well. They’re being extra cautious with both of them, but they’ll be out of hospital in the morning. Charles was quite upset, actually, he thinks the crash was his fault and he’s worried how Pierre will feel about him. Apparently they had an argument or something; he didn’t really go into it, but that’s the impression I got.”

“I can guess,” Pyry replied, shrugging. “How are  _ you  _ with all this?”

“They’re both like little brothers to me,” Daniel explained, “so obviously it sucks that the race was red flagged because of them. I feel better after seeing them both, though, I know they’re both going to be fine. Shit happens, people crash sometimes, I’m just glad they’re both okay. How about you; how are you doing? Pierre doesn’t seem too great.”

“He’s not,” Pyry replied. “The challenge is to keep him calm; when he’s stressed, his pain is worse and when his pain is bad, his mood is worse. You can see how it’s a spiral. I think he’s happy to have Lando here, though, he’s very easy company.”

Daniel smiled and pulled Pyry into a tight hug, squeezing him for a few moments before letting him go. “I’m going to head to bed myself, I think. Call Christian in the morning, I’m sure he’ll tell you if you can go and pick Max and Charles up. They’re both desperate to see Pierre.”

\---

“Are Pierre and Pyry coming to pick you up?” Charles asked, approaching Max in his hospital room. He was dressed to go home and had his backpack with him. He hesitated in the doorway, crossing his arms over his chest. “Sorry, I mean,  _ good morning _ .”

“Good morning,” Max replied politely, gesturing at the empty chair next to his bed. “You can sit down, if you’d like. They’re coming to pick me up, yes, and I think we can take you back with us. I don’t think Pierre’s ready to abandon you in a brazilian hospital.”

“I wouldn’t put it past him,” Charles mumbled, dumping his bag next to the chair and sprawling out in it. “After the weekend he’s had, I wouldn’t be surprised if he didn’t want to see me for a while.”

Max smiled widely and rolled his eyes. “I think it’s pretty obvious where Pierre got his dramatic side from. What exactly is he supposed to be angry at you about again? The stewards said it was a racing incident. I still don’t remember it but Christian showed me videos and it’s a pretty big stretch for you to take full responsibility for it. It looked even less deliberate than when you wiped out Seb here last year-”

“-I didn’t wipe him out!”

Max laughed harder, leaning over the side of his bed. “You’re so easy to wind up.”

“Fuck off.”

“Do you want a lift back to the hotel or not?” Max asked, sitting upright and tucking his knees to his chest. “As for the Esteban thing, I think he’s already forgiven you. Obviously we talked about it on Saturday night, and again on Sunday morning, and he’s not angry at you. He’s angry at  _ Esteban _ . Could you have said something differently? Probably, but Pierre doesn’t hate you. The whole thing just stirred up some old trauma for him, that’s all.”

“I was a dick to him when he was fifteen when Esteban did,  _ you know _ ,” Charles said, frowning. “I don’t have any excuse for it. I was thirteen years old, Esteban was my friend, I didn’t want to believe he was capable of such things. Nobody wants to believe something like that about their best friend, and so I reacted badly. I accused Pierre of lying, of making it up, and I believed Esteban when he said it was consensual.”

Max smiled sadly and hugged his knees a little closer to his chest. “You changed your mind, though?”

“Of course,” Charles replied. “Anthoine told me what happened when Pierre got home, and it was then I knew Pierre wasn’t making it up. I should have believed him from the beginning though. He’s not someone who would make up something like this. If he says someone hurt him, I should believe him. I believed him on Saturday. Esteban was so smug and I  _ knew  _ he’d done something horrible. I really wanted to punch him in the face, like I should have done when we were teenagers.”

“There’s no point,” Max sighed, “it might make you feel better but it wouldn’t help Pierre. He said he didn’t go to the police when he was a teenager and he doesn’t want to go to the police now. I think he should, but it doesn’t really matter what I think. What matters is how we can keep him safe.”

“We could start by not crashing,” Charles replied, dropping his gaze to the floor. “I’m sorry, Max. It has been such a long season and this whole weekend was a mess. I’m really looking forward to going home.”

“Me too,” Max agreed. “We just need to get through the flight tonight and then tomorrow morning we’ll be back in Monaco in our own beds and we can try and put this shitty weekend behind us.”

\---

“You stupid idiot!” Pierre laughed, rushing into Max’s hospital room and launching himself at his boyfriend. Pierre hopped up onto the trolley next to Max and threw his arms around him, squeezing his tight. “I am  _ never  _ letting you out of my sight again,” he said, kissing Max’s cheek. “Are you trying to kill me?!”

“I’m sorry,” Max replied, smiling against Pierre’s cheek and kissing him a few times. He held Pierre close, breathing in the familiar scent of his shampoo for a few moments as he glanced past Pierre to where Charles was slowly waking up in his seat. Max wasn’t sure if he saw Pyry put his fingers through Charles’s hair or if it was just a simple touch, but he pushed the thoughts to the back of his mind and concentrated on Pierre. “How are you?”

“You mean apart from going out of my mind with worry?” Pierre joked, leaning backwards only far enough to cup Max’s face in his hands. “How are  _ you _ ? How’s your head? Does it hurt?”

“A little bit, I guess,” Max replied, shrugging. “I don’t have any major side effects. I slept a lot last night and apart from a bit of bruising, I’m fine, I promise.”

“I don’t believe you,” Pierre said, pulling Max closer and kissing him. “That was the biggest crash of your career. I’m taking you home and putting you in bubble wrap until you go to Abu Dhabi.”

“But I’m still allowed to go to Abu Dhabi?”

“Yes, of course,” Pierre grinned, “but then after that, you’ll come home and I’ll put you back in the bubble wrap for winter.” Pierre kissed Max again and then pulled away, turning to Charles. “You too, Charles. All of winter in bubble wrap.”

Pierre clambered off the mattress and when Charles stood up, Pierre threw his arms around him, cuddling him close. “You’re still my best friend and I still love you more than anything,” he promised, “but you’re  _ also  _ a stupid idiot.” Pierre smiled widely as he let Charles go. “Honestly, both of you, you could have crashed into anyone on the track but you crashed into each other. What did I do to deserve this suffering?”

“Absolutely nothing,” Charles whispered, touching Pierre’s arm for a few moments before pulling away completely and burying his hands in his pockets.

“Hey, come here,” Pierre said in soft french, pulling Charles into his arms again. He settled his head on Charles’s shoulder and slid his arms around Charles’s waist. “I’m not angry at you, I promise. I’m sorry if I seemed angry yesterday; I was angry at him but never at you. You’re my best friend and I know you want what’s best for me. Truce?”

“Truce.”

Pierre let go of Charles and smiled at him one last time before returning to Max, grabbing his hand and lacing their fingers together. “I swear to God, if you two do anything like this in Abu Dhabi, you’d better have good life insurance.”


End file.
